Return to Bolis Island
by TKeiraLea
Summary: Notes: sequel to T'Keira Lea's Wingman, co-written with Darth Lex Summary: Shortly after Invincible, Jaina and Jag finally get their Union.
1. Prologue and Teaser Trailer

Title: **Return to Bolis Island**  
Author: T'Keira Lea & Darth Lex  
Timeframe: post-LOTF  
Characters: Jagged Fel, Jaina Solo, Han & Leia Solo, Soontir & Syal Fel, Luke Skywalker  
Genre: Romance, Action, Mayhem  
Keywords: J/J  
Notes: sequel to TKL's _Wingman_  
Summary: Shortly after Invincible, Jaina and Jag finally get their Union.

Disclaimer: Lucasfilm owns all the rights to Star Wars. We don't. No infringement is intended or profit to be made by us.

This is a story of the wedding of Jaina Solo and Jagged Fel, set shortly after Legacy of the Force: Invincible.

We decided to write **Return to Bolis Island** as a sequel to TKL's recently finished story **Wingman**, so occasionally there will be references to developments in that story in the backstory for this one. Nevertheless, RBI should stand on its own. (But of course we think you should read Wingman if you haven't already!)

Yes, there will be plenty of romance – but expect the usual Star Wars mayhem, as well. The original plot bunny for this story came from the notion of giving Jaina and Jag (finally!) their version of the wonderful Luke-Mara wedding story in the comic Union. And how could two pilots get married without a dose of shenanigans worthy of Wes Janson? (Or even Janson himself!)

Enjoy!

**RETURN TO BOLIS ISLAND ******

**Teaser Trailer**

_**The Fox Logo appears and fades. The Lucasfilm Logo appears and fades. The haunting theme "Across the Stars" begins as a series of images appears simultaneously with spoken words. **_

Anakin Skywalker (voiceover): From the moment I met you, all those years ago…

_In __The New Jedi Order: Dark Tide: Ruin__, Jagged Fel, dressed in a crisp black Imperial uniform with red piping, steps off the dais of the _Tafanda Bay_'s reception hall. The crowd parts before him, and he bows respectfully to the young Jedi Knight Jaina Solo. He offers a greeting. She blinks, then smiles. _

Anakin Skywalker (voiceover): … not a day has gone by when I haven't thought of you.

_In __The New Jedi Order: The Unifying Force__, Jaina waits on a frozen plain as a clawcraft spirals down for a textbook-perfect landing. As Jag climbs from the cockpit, she fidgets impatiently. Once his feet hit the ground, the young couple hold each other's gazes. She grins before sprinting into his waiting arms. _

Padmé Amidala (voiceover): I can't. We can't. It's just not possible.

_In __Dark Nest: The Swarm War__, a pair of Stealth-X starfighters pursue a clawcraft through the upper atmosphere above the clouds of the planet Tenupe. When the Jedi craft open fire, the Chiss fighter plummets into the Clawcraft Spin, a deadly whirling torrent of cannonfire. _

Anakin Skywalker (voiceover): And now that I'm with you again, I'm in agony.

_In __Legacy of the Force: Exile__, Jaina enters the main corridor of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. A taller figure shrouded in a dark cloak approaches from the opposite direction. They pass, then stop. Jaina turns, but the cloaked man does not. A moment later, he vanishes outside into the night. _

Anakin Skywalker (voiceover): The thought of not being with you – I can't breathe.

_In __Legacy of the Force: Invincible__, bloodied and battered, Jaina cradles the corpse of Darth Caedus in her lap in the disposal pit of the _Anakin Solo_. Jag rushes over to her and drops to kneeling, hurriedly injecting her with a stimshot. He takes her hand, and after a moment she looks up at him. _

_**The music transitions into the love ballad "Han Solo and the Princess." **_

Announcer (voiceover): This winter, join the co-authors of _**The Courtship of Jagged Fel**_ …

_Her back pressed flat against a stone wall, Jaina leans out and peers around the corner, then jerks backs to her hiding place. A few seconds later a tall, vicious man walks by, unaware of her presence. Her elbow slashes upward, crashing into his jaw; his body slumps, unconscious before he hits the ground. _

Announcer (voiceover): … **T'Keira Lea** and **Darth Lex** …

_With Threepio and Artoo behind him, Jag stands in front of a drab gray counter, shouting and gesturing wildly. Opposite him is a droid, which only stares at him impassively. Finally Jag balls his fists and slams them down on the counter as hard as he can. _

Announcer (voiceover): … for a new short story …

_The camera races across the rolling vista of a calm cerulean sea. In the distance a small island becomes visible, its pristine white beaches sloping lazily to the surf. Only a forty-story resort tower rises above the island, stretching toward a cloudless sky lit by the warm glow of dawn. _

Announcer (voiceover): … of love and sacrifice …

_The camera angle is tight, focused only on the faces of Jaina and Jag as they look into each other's eyes. A single bead of perspiration emerges from Jaina's hairline and races down her brow. When Jag raises an eyebrow, she flashes him the trademark Solo smirk – and he smiles, too. _

Announcer (voiceover): … adversity and triumph …

_A tall human man with short spiky hair and a goatee, all shocking white, and dressed in flamboyant, multicolored clothes, flings open the door and barges inside a room where Jaina and Leia are waiting. He is followed by a retinue of droids guiding a hoversled loaded with a massive metal case and piles of small boxes. _

Announcer (voiceover): … laughs, hugs, celebration …

_Two men in formal dress uniforms and two ladies in luxurious gowns stand together outside a closed door. Soontir Fel and Han Solo appraise each other dubiously while Syal Fel and Leia Solo exchange a warm, heartfelt embrace. Then they glare at their respective husbands, who begrudgingly shake hands. _

Announcer (voiceover): … and mayhem.

_Side by side, dressed in formal civilian attire not Jedi robes, Luke and Ben Skywalker run full speed down a corridor. Mid-stride they share a worried glance. The next instant, in unison, their right hands drop to their hips and snap back up with lightsabers ignited. _

_**The music shifts abruptly to the triumphant fanfares of "The Throne Room."**_

Announcer (voiceover): This time …

_A train of pink Alderaanian tulle swishes behind a slender woman trotting along a long, narrow corridor. Abruptly she pauses and turns back over her shoulder. Amid the upswept brown tresses, Jaina's brown eyes are haunted, endlessly dark. She spins away, and breaks into a run. _

Jagged Fel (voiceover): Years ago, I thought I could see my future in her eyes.

_At the base of the _Millennium Falcon_'s boarding ramp, Jag tugs Jaina into his arms. For a long moment they hold the embrace. Then her head tips back, and she gazes up into his green eyes. With the back of his hand he strokes her cheek, before lowering his lips to meet hers. _

Jaina Solo (voiceover): I want you to know that I still love you. And I always will.

_Hands on her hips, Jaina glares at Jag. He reaches out to embrace her, but she swats his hands away. When he tries again, she shoves him hard and shouts after him until he has stumbled all the way out the open door. With a swipe of a hand, Jaina uses the Force to slam the door on Jag. _

Han Solo (voiceover): Why didn't she marry Jag Fel when she had the chance?

_A pair of tall wooden doors opens to reveal Han Solo, visibly uncomfortable in a formal dress uniform. Then he glances over at the beautiful woman on his arm. His daughter matches his half-cocked smile, and his expression brightens to that of a man who wouldn't trade the galaxy for this moment. _

Announcer (voiceover): … there's no backing out.

_As the wind whips white sheers away from the open window they are supposed to shield, Jaina steps between them. She glances back over her shoulder, her forlorn eyes gazing upon the numerous flowers and piles of gifts filling the room. The next instant she looks away – and jumps out the window. _

_**As "The Throne Room" rises to its conclusion, gold text on a black background appears. **_

**STAR WARS: RETURN TO BOLIS ISLAND**

* * *

**STAR WARS:**

**Return to Bolis Island**

_Getting married._

_Meet me at Bolis Island._

~ Jaina Solo

**Prologue**

Outside the _Millennium Falcon_'s viewport the lines of hyperspace swirled in their timeless pattern. Feet kicked up on the control board, Han Solo stared ahead, trying to find mindless comfort in the lights' familiar dance. Try as he might, the aging star pilot couldn't shake the uncomfortable tingling deep in his gut. Years of trusting that strange feeling made him edgy, sure chaos and life-or-death struggle awaited him at any moment. Han straightened in his chair and began checking the ship's systems in a ritual that was usually rote.

Amazingly, every system – weapons, engines, shielding, hyperdrive – scored solidly within optimal operational parameters. Glancing at the navcomputer, he verified the countdown timer: just under ten minutes to reversion. With nothing in need of a quick tweak, Han found he couldn't resist the urge to fish out a worn flimsy that hadn't left his possession since Leia had passed it to him just the day before.

Peeling it open, he stared at the words. The same degree of shock still registered upon reading them again.

"The words aren't going to magically change if you stare at them long enough." Leia placed a comforting hand on Han's shoulder before lowering gracefully into the co-pilot's chair.

"You're sure this isn't a forgery?" Han tapped the flimsy on the palm of his hand.

"Perhaps it's an Imperial trap."

His wife's words were wrapped in sincerity, yet Han still felt compelled to look for that same sentiment in her expression. The lines around the corners of her eyes were crisper than normal, and there was that twinkle…

"You're mocking me."

"I'd never presume to mock a galactic war hero."

"Since when?"

Leia fiddled with a few buttons at her station. "Come now. Do you really think the new Grand Moff would sanction a plot to entrap the parents of his son's future wife –"

"That's just it, though. Don't you think it's odd, this sudden change of leadership? Jag's out; his father's in. Not just in, but declares himself Grand Moff. And no sign of Jaina publicly amid all that political upheaval on Bastion."

"From what I can glean from the intelligence reports, the transition of power happened with little or no uproar. It appears Jag's assignment all along was to gain influence in the Remnant in order to facilitate an eventual coup by the Empire of the Hand."

Han threw up his hands. "So you're saying we've been played by our daughter's future husband for the better part of a decade. And this doesn't trouble you in the slightest?"

"I'm saying that's what's in the reports." Leia leaned back nonchalantly in her seat.

"You're not buying it."

"I'd never admit as much, of course. Except in the presence of exceedingly handsome Corellian galactic heroes." Shifting forward, she closed the distance between them. "But yes, I think there is more to the story."

"Well, I have a bad feeling about this."

"The only bad feeling you have, Han, is letting go of your little girl."

He opened his mouth to protest, and hesitated. Leia, the woman who could read between the lines with cunning accuracy, showed no outward concern about a preposterous turn of events over the past few days. In fact, she appeared more content than he recalled her being in… well, a long time. And the only duplicity she suspected seemed to be in motives of her husband.

No, he was right about this. Too many things didn't add up. It was just two short months since Jaina had fought Caedus. Even in happier times, she had resisted commitment to a marriage. After this, she would want time to recover emotionally and physically. And Jag, he hadn't pressed Jaina for a relationship over the past years. In fact, the couple had barely renewed their love affair before Jaina had run off to train with Boba Fett. They both needed time. Unless…

"Fel's forcing this on them. That has to be it."

"I'm sure you'll hash that out with the Grand Moff at the first opportunity, dear." She might have said more, but the chime of the navcomputer put the discussion on hold.

Upon reversion to realspace, they were greeted by a complement of TIE fighters swooping down from a Super Star Destroyer, which hung over the cerulean planet of Maramere like an ominous welcoming committee. The squadron leader was efficient and businesslike. The _Falcon_, accompanied by their Imperial escort, approached the berthing docks of Bolis Island in record time considering the security measures for which the resort was renowned.

"Too easy," Han muttered as he executed a textbook perfect landing. "Mark my words."

After unbuckling her restraints, Leia rose and put a hand on his shoulder. "For once in our lives, we deserve too easy."

There was a profound sadness in his wife's words, and for the first few seconds he silently shared that sad truth with Leia, her features bore the grief of a mother who had lost too much. Then suddenly her eyes brightened and a smile graced her lips. Dipping forward, Leia scanned the deck below until she spotted a contingent of grey-uniformed Imperials led by a squad of stormtroopers. In an uncustomary gesture, she waved through the viewport at them, then turned and sprinted from the cockpit.

Han bent down to study the arriving crowd and frowned. He followed Leia, albeit more slowly, making one stop along the way to retrieve his blaster and strap it on. By the time Han reached the bottom of the ramp, Leia was face to face with a pair of imposing troopers.

"I must insist on the security sweep, Master Solo. I have protocols to adhere to," the trooper to the left said in the filtered tone afforded by Imperial helmets. The second trooper moved forward with a large scanning device.

Han stormed forward. "Now wait a minute. I thought this was supposed to be a friendly gathering, not some Imperial inquisition. Get that thing away from my ship, buddy."

Han reached for the scanner, only to be stayed by his wife's outstretched arm blocking his forward momentum. "It's fine, Han."

"No, it's not –"

"Hey," a familiar voice erupted from deep in the pack of Imperials, "let me through."

A moment later the voice spoke again. "Seriously, guys. Don't make me get out the lightsaber."

The wall of troopers began to part, but not fast enough for the petite, brown-haired woman shoving her way through. Jaina tumbled forward, past the pair of troopers with the imposing scanner, right into her mother's waiting arms. "Mom."

Leia held the young woman as if an imploding star might try and rip Jaina from her grasp. Mother and daughter said nothing, but Han knew an unspoken conversation passed in their bond shared since before birth. Outwardly, Jaina looked well. Her hair was thick, a riot of curls styled fashionably. Her skin tone was healthy. The damage to her face was undetectable.

The trooper with the scanner approached tentatively. "Lady Solo, I must insist –"

"Dad." Jaina ignored the trooper completely, jumping straight into Han's arms. Words failed him as he held his daughter. So he simply reveled in the moment, praying the mist clouding his vision wouldn't tumble forward and reveal Han Solo to be a sentimental blob of emotions. As his embrace tightened, he understood what Leia had felt seconds before; he just didn't want this moment to end. To feel his child safe, with no indications of the savage battle wounds that had scarred her body, nestled in his arms…

For the first time in a long while, Han felt whole.

"The protocols say we must begin –"

Jaina rounded out of Han's grasp, turning her steely gaze on the trooper. "Protocols? These aren't just some random guests, Sergeant. These are my parents, and they will be treated with the respect they are due. Now put that thing away."

Jaina took a long, aggressive stride toward the trooper, a palm held up. A grey-uniformed officer moved to intercept her. "Respectfully," the man said, "the security measures as dictated by Moff Fel himself are non-negotiable."

"My father also gave strict instructions, Major, that this is to be Lady Solo's day, and that nothing is to interfere with her wishes." Jag Fel strode proudly out of the cluster of Imperials. His uniform, black with red piping, stood out in stark contrast to those of his counterparts. "But if you prefer, we can contact him right now to determine the proper course of action."

The major opened his mouth to say something – just as two massive stormtroopers stepped to either side of Jag. "That won't be necessary, sir. I will note the exception in the logs."

Jag continued to stare at the major, stone-faced.

The man swallowed, then turned to face Jaina. "My apologies, Lady Solo, for any inconvenience we have placed upon your family. Rest assured, it will not happen again for the remainder of your time on Bolis Island. And, on behalf of the Imperial Security Service, please accept our congratulations on your impending nuptials."

Han waited for the inevitable Jaina Solo retort. In fact, he relished the prospect of the braising the Imperial was about to endure. So Jaina's sweet smile and utterly gracious reply – a simple "Thank you." – came as a complete shock. For a woman who was being pushed headlong into a marriage she wasn't ready for, Jaina sure did a good job of putting on a show, right down to reaching out for Jag's hand.

After the squad of troopers had departed, Jaina nudged Jag with her elbow. "I told you the Noghri would be easier."

"Not easier," Jag offered with a smile, obviously trying a bit too hard to seem relaxed. "They don't operate within the parameters of the ISS. Dealing with all the bureaucratic hassles would be more trouble than it's worth."

"Well, at least they would have been discreet." Jaina waved her hand in a generous sweep to indicate the broad scope of their retinue. "I thought transitioning power was supposed to allow us some semblance of a normal life."

Pulling Jaina closer, Jag kissed her forehead like a parent placating a temperamental child. "This is all precautionary. Just until my father is feeling more secure."

"Which should be right about never," Han muttered.

Jaina stepped away from Jag, intertwining her arm around Han's. "Dad, can we all play nice just for these next few days? For me?"

Han Solo, galactic hero and hardened battle veteran, was powerless to resist. "I'll try."

With her free arm, Jaina tugged Leia closer. "And you'll enforce that, right, Mom?"

"Even if I have to bind and gag your father to achieve the desired result."

Han grinned. "In that case, I may just have to break my promise."

Jaina's face contorted. "Let's keep those sorts of details to ourselves, please."

Arm in arm the Solo family laughed.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

The hovercraft's open deck offered a panoramic vista of their destination. Seven kilometers of pristine white beaches rose up from the brilliant aquamarine water of Maramere's ocean. Long a prosperous resort world, it wasn't until after Palpatine's death that an enterprising firm had found the most profitable niche of all. And so Bolis Island was created, an artificial island built within the Konstructor Reef. Its crowning jewel, the Grand Hotel, a spectacular tower jutting from the island's center, reached into the clouds.

Access to the island was restricted, making the resort an ideal setting for celebrities, tycoons, and assorted VIPs to relax far from public scrutiny. Arrivals occurred exclusively at a single berthing terminal ten kilometers from the island. After the _Falcon_ had been safely docked and their luggage gathered, Leia and her family, accompanied by an oversized complement of Imperial security agents, had boarded the hovercraft and begun their ride to Bolis Island.

Despite the beauty of the view, Leia's eyes kept roaming back to steal occasional glances at the young woman seated to her left.

In her heart, Leia felt Jaina's happiness, but that had been a steadily growing truth over the course of the past couple of weeks. Each passing day had revealed more layers of bliss, like the awakening of a spring day, within the special bond Leia shared with her daughter. But catching a glimpse of Jaina's joy, that was a priceless treasure Leia could tuck away in her chest of memories. Right now, she wanted to be sure she had the image locked up exactly right.

Jaina glanced over, one hand brushing aside the short brown curls blown over her eyes. "Mom, everything okay?"

Leia opened her mouth to say any number of things, but the roar of the engines coupled with the howl of the wind made it impossible to offer more than a simple, "Yes."

Soon enough they arrived at the dock. Hotel attendants gathered the luggage and hostesses greeted the new guests. After a brief registration process, Han and Leia stood with keycards in hand. Leia faced the lobby expecting to wade back into the swarm of Imperials, but aside from a handful of hotel staff, only Jaina and Jag remained, sitting quietly on a loveseat in a secluded corner. Jaina fingered a button on Jag's jacket, while he bent close to whisper something in her ear. She blushed, then stole a quick kiss.

Rocking impatiently on the balls of his feet, Han cleared his throat. "She's wearing a dress."

For the first time, Leia noted the incongruity with Jaina's usual attire, but that was probably because their daughter actually appeared comfortable in her clothes. "Yes, she is. I think she looks quite lovely. Don't you?"

"I think she looks like something the Empire molded," her husband huffed.

Leia was about to insist she sensed no duress from Jaina when the young lovers noted the registration process was completed. In a flash they were heading across the lobby.

"All set?" Jaina asked with a smile. Han held up the pair of keycards in response. "Perfect. You're in the Alderaan Suite, one floor below ours. I figured Dad would prefer less Imperial interference for his comings and goings. I hope that's okay with you?"

"What? They got you two locked up tight in between appearances?" Han tried to keep the cynicism from his voice, and failed miserably.

"All precautionary, sir." To his credit, Jag answered respectfully. "I think you'd agree that it's critical we maintain a smooth transition - for the good of the Empire and the good of the galaxy."

"Of course," Leia said as her elbow bumped sharply into Han's ribs. "We all want that."

"So," Jaina said, "we were planning a light lunch for your arrival. But if you would prefer to take some time to settle in we can push lunch back."

Leia glanced over at Han and they nodded in unison. "Let's eat."

Jag stepped back and swept his arm toward a pair of towering doors at the lobby's west end. "This way, then."

Past the doors they entered an expansive restaurant. The hostess apparently expected their arrival, greeting Jaina and Jag by name. She led the quartet toward the far side of the room, where a transparisteel wall afforded a spectacular view of the ocean. Ending at a circular table, they took their seats, Leia next to Han, then Jaina and Jag. But there were six chairs.

"Moff Fel and his wife will be here shortly," the hostess said as she passed around the menus. "They asked that you not wait."

And so their meal proceeded. They talked about little things and nothing. Sometimes, Jaina shared a small detail about her time with the Fels, but it was what was left unsaid that spoke volumes. Jaina and Jag existed in a rare harmony that most would never achieve. He knew instinctively she needed the seasoning and passed it along; she sliced off a hunk of her nerfroast before he even asked for a taste. They touched and smiled to the point that their affection was contagious.

For the third time in as many minutes Han squeezed Leia's hand for no particular reason. It was nothing short of miraculous to see the transformation in their daughter. For too long she had closed herself off, and now didn't hesitate to share her emotions for all to see.

Jaina reached over to pat her father's shoulder. "Do you like your spiced endwa, Dad?"

Mouth full, Han managed an awkward smile and enthusiastic nod.

"Good. I picked that for one of the entrees for the reception, seeing as it's your favorite."

Leia perked up. This was one of the first details about the wedding Jaina had shared. While the family gladly could play catch-up for days on end, the reality was the ceremony was going to be a lot sooner than that. "Will the reception be in here?"

"Oh, no. This room is not nearly big enough," Jaina said.

"The rehearsal dinner will be in here, though," Jag noted.

"Exactly how many people are you inviting to the wedding?" Han asked. Leia could practically see the credit chips rolling behind her husband's eyes.

"I'm not really solid on the number. It keeps changing. Syal has the working list, and anyway we need to double check I didn't miss anyone you want to invite." Jaina radiated excited energy in the Force. "Then again, this is all very rushed, so I'm sure a lot of the guests won't be able to make it."

"This is the event of the decade," boomed a deep voice from behind them. "I can assure you everyone who's anyone will find a way to get here."

Jaina bounded from her chair and rushed toward her future in-laws. She enveloped Syal in an enthusiastic hug. Then she pecked a soft kiss to Soontir's cheek. "You finally made it."

"Our apologies." Syal moved toward Leia. The two women embraced. "There always seems to be something popping up. So," she said, turning to Jaina, "what have we missed?"

"Nothing important. Please, sit." Jaina indicated to the vacant chairs. "We barely broached the subject of the wedding. My father had just asked about the guest list. Pending any additions from them, of course."

Syal allowed Soontir to guide her chair forward. Once she was settled at the table, she retrieved a datapad from her bag. "Let's see. With that caveat, it looks like, at this point, roughly two thousand one hundred ninety seven guests."

"Two thousand!" Han voiced the shock both he and Leia felt. "You'd practically have to take over the whole resort."

"Convenient, then, we were able to arrange that," Soontir answered calmly.

"The whole resort?" This time Han's trepidation made his words sound dry.

"If you're worried about expense –" Soontir took a casual swig of water. "– please don't. The Imperial treasury is honored to host the event."

"Yeah, it's not expense I'm not worried about." Han started out of his chair. Only Leia's Jedi reactions, a quick hold on his arm, kept him seated.

Soontir seemed to relish this moment. "Han, I have no doubt whatsoever you'd be good for the amount in question, under any circumstances. And especially for your daughter's wedding. That's not the issue. There hasn't been a wedding of this stature since… Well, since –" He glanced apologetically to Leia. "– your brother and his late wife, I imagine. We all need something like this to celebrate, and the Empire is more than happy to oblige its public. And the galaxy as a whole."

Han turned to face his wife. "You see, I told you this was some Imperial plot."

"Dad."

"No one is going to force my daughter into a marriage before she is ready," Han persisted, menacingly wagging a finger.

"Mom." Jaina cast an imploring look at Leia. "He promised."

Leia shrugged. "I guess I made the consequences for breaking the promise too tempting."

Jag leaned forward. "Father, Han, why don't we leave the wedding planning to the ladies? The three of us are overdue to discuss the Empire's new reconstruction endeavor. It was, after all, his idea."

Curiosity cooled Han's barely tempered belligerence. "Only if we discuss this mysterious project over a stiff drink."

"To the bar, then," Jag said with a wink in Jaina's direction. She mouthed her fiancé a silent "thanks" before he kissed her forehead.

As Jag led the men toward the bar, Leia prayed he found a way to stall the two Corellian fathers from diving straight into the Whyren's. Otherwise, more conflict was inevitable. Amid her fretting, Leia's curiosity was still piqued. "Do they really have something to discuss with your father?"

"Actually, yes." Jaina twirled her fork. "Dad made the Moffs promise to fund some recovery efforts when they surrendered at Shedu Maad. Jag's new role is to direct that effort, so he figured he had better go to the source."

Leia fell back into her chair. "Most impressive."

"Well, I for one have had my fill of bureaucratic nonsense for the day." Syal plopped an expandable file onto the table. "We have a day until the first guests begin to arrive, two days until the rehearsal, three days until the big event. And far too much to do. How about we start planning a wedding?"


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"I'm out."

Nobody said anything.

Jag looked up to see four glaring faces. "What?"

"What's with this guy?" demanded Wedge.

"He has no courage," said Lando.

Han stared meaningfully at Soontir. "He's your kid."

"It's just a friendly game, son." The elder Fel's tone was no less grumpy. "Live a little. Stay in some hands you might actually lose."

_Easy for you to say. I'm not exactly in the right net-worth club, here. _"All right," Jag said. "I'll give it a shot."

Wedge raised a brow. "So you're not folding?"

Jag grinned. "Oh, I am. Perhaps I'll be bolder in a future hand."

Lando chuckled. "At least he's definitive."

"All right, let's play on without Mister Wild Side," Han said.

And they did.

Jag reached for his drink, and took a slow sip. Almost gone; just a few more swigs. When he reached out to set it back down on the small table beside his chair, their waiter appeared from nowhere and leaned down to him.

"Another brandy, sir?" the quiet Nautolan asked.

"Uh, I think –"

"Bring the man another," Lando interjected. "On me."

"Very well, sir," the waiter said, and vanished just as quickly as he'd appeared.

Jag looked at Lando. "Trying to loosen me up?"

"Something like that."

"Gee, thanks."

Lando shrugged. "You're the guest of honor. If we're going to fleece you blind at sabacc, the least we can do is pay for your drinks."

Wedge grinned. "We're nothing if not gentlemen."

"Apparently," Jag said, chuckling.

He sat back in his chair while they finished the hand. This whole experience was surreal. The five men sat around a low table in the lounge area of the main lobby of the Grand Hotel, just a few meters from where Jag had sat with Jaina waiting for her parents to arrive the day before. Their surroundings were nothing short of ostentatious. Jag almost felt guilty sitting in the chair, as if the burnished wood and luxurious fabric were too expensive to risk the wear and tear of actual use. It wasn't that long ago, really, that Jag had been scraping together a sparse existence in the inhospitable jungles of Tenupe. Now he sat at the pinnacle of galactic opulence. He found it difficult to believe.

But even the incongruent splendor of Bolis Island couldn't compare to the incomprehensible sabacc game. Four retired generals. Four war heroes – three of the Rebellion and the New Republic, one of the Empire and the Chiss. Four celebrities, whose very presence in a public place never failed to turn heads. Four husbands, four fathers.

And Jag.

It was hard to conceive of a situation in which he could feel more out of place. Before his thoughts could wander any further in that direction, though, the Nautolan returned with the full tumbler of brandy. Thanking the waiter, Jag suppressed an inner chuckle. That was about right. In this company, Jag shouldn't be thanking the waiter. He should _be _the waiter.

A cry of exultation interrupted his musings. "Ha!"

Wedge was grinning. Han was not.

And just like that, another hand began. Jag leaned forward, watching as his father shuffled the deck. Moments later, Jag held his cards. Not bad, not great. He could fold or bluff, or just wait and see. After the first round of wagers, when no one else sent a strong signal of confidence – genuine or utterly faked – he decided to stay in the hand for now.

Two rounds later, he had a decision to make. His father was wagering aggressively now, and Soontir rarely bluffed. On the other hand, when he did bluff it was always a deception of monumental proportions. Jag either had no chance of beating him, or certain victory awaited. His father could be maddening that way.

Before Jag could make up his mind, Wedge gathered his cards into a palm and said, "Hold on a second."

The other four looked at him, then followed his gaze across the lobby to the main entrance, where a couple was just arriving. Wedge waved first, Tycho Celchu waved back, and then the rest of them all waved as well. Tycho nudged his companion, and Winter glanced over and waved in greeting too. When Winter looked away again, Wedge and Tycho exchanged a series of inscrutable hand signals – three short, simple gestures each.

"All right," Wedge said when he finished, "let's get back to the game."

Han raised a brow. "What was that all about?"

"He'd love to join us," Wedge explained, "but he promised Winter he'd take her to dinner when they arrived."

Soontir raised a brow too. "You got all that from a few gesticulations?"

Wedge shrugged. "We've known each other a long time."

"More like," Lando said, "you've both been so thoroughly submissive to your wives for so long, you know exactly what he's thinking."

Han laughed. "As opposed to you, who stands up to your wife all the time."

Lando scowled. "Some friend you are. Permit me my delusions, will you?"

"No," said Wedge. Then he looked at Jag. "Nothing to add, kiddo?"

"What wisdom could I possibly contribute? I'm not married yet."

"Technicalities," Han said, flashing him the Solo smirk. "Jaina's got you wrapped so tight around her finger, I'm surprised I was even able to separate you two long enough to get you down here to join us."

Soontir, who had calmly raised his tumbler to take a swig moments before, nearly spat out a mouthful of brandy, but recovered his composure instantly. "He's got you there, Jagged."

"Yes," Jag said, forcing a smile. "I suppose he does."

It wasn't that they were wrong, of course. Jag would do anything for Jaina, without hesitation or regret. Whatever she asked of him was hers, unconditionally. He wasn't ashamed to admit it openly, either, however much human male bravado counseled otherwise. And certainly not in this company. If nothing else, these men knew _exactly _how he felt about Jaina.

No, something else entirely was gnawing away at his gut. It was irrational. He kept telling himself that. But even Jag's formidable willpower couldn't banish this fear completely. What if everything imploded again? What if, for all she'd healed these last few weeks, Jaina still wasn't ready? What if she called off their wedding again? Could Jag survive another last-second heartbreak?

Reality snapped back into focus when Jag realized he'd wagered himself three rounds deeper into the hand on autopilot. He blinked, suddenly remembering what he was doing – and where he was. And that simple momentary recognition of his surroundings brought a wide grin to his face. If nothing else, at least he and Jaina had made it all the way to Bolis Island this time. That had to count for something.

As did the monumental – and completely inadvertent – bluff Jag had just successfully executed.

Completely misreading Jag's expression, Soontir conceded the hand and shoved the pile of credit chips over to Jag. A sizeable increase to his reserves, no less. Maybe the old guys were on to something after all.

Wedge gathered the deck and began to shuffle. The rest of them took the opportunity to imbibe more from their respective drinks. Wedge had just finished dealing when Lando lifted his fingers to his lips and emitted a high, piercing whistle while waving dramatically in the air high over his head with his free hand.

Shaking his head, Han leaned over to the rest of them. "Just when I think he couldn't be any more of an embarrassment…"

Still, they all looked over to see who Lando had hailed – and saw Talon Karrde doing his best to pretend he didn't realize he was the object of attention. Shada D'ukal certainly did, though, and waved back to Lando enthusiastically. Then she planted a sharp elbow in his ribs, and Karrde finally acknowledged Lando with an understated, chagrined wave.

Lando turned back to the card game. "What's his problem?"

Soontir shot Jag a bemused glance. "I couldn't possibly imagine."

Jag barely managed not to laugh. He picked up his cards – and had to suppress a flinch. This might have been the single worst sabacc hand he'd ever been dealt. Fortuitously, at that very moment an Imperial attaché hustled over to the game and canted his head to indicate he needed to speak with Jag.

"Hate to disappoint you, gentlemen," Jag announced, folding in his hand atop the low table as he rose to his feet, "but I'm afraid I have some business to attend to."

His retreat was greeted with a rousing mock groan. A few quick strides brought Jag to the attaché. "Yes?"

"I apologize for the interruption, sir," the young man said, "but you asked to be notified if there were any difficulties with your delivery."

"And?"

"Some difficulties have arisen with your delivery."

Jag fought down the urge to respond with a profane retort. Instead he calmly said, "Care to elaborate?"

"Maramere Customs has cleared the shipment. Before it even made planetside, in fact. But ISS is refusing to expedite release for further transit to Bolis Island."

"So deal with it."

The young man swallowed visibly. "We've tried, sir. But I'm afraid ISS regulations prohibit agents from requesting expedited processing on behalf of a principal. You, uh… You'd have to make the request personally, sir. In, uh… in person."

Jag sighed. "Very well. I'll deal with it in the morning. I trust you'll be available to meet me at the ISS command center at the berthing terminal at 0700?"

"Of course, sir." The attaché snapped a crisp salute, then hurried away.

The sabacc hand was just concluding when Jag slid back into his chair. Two consecutive hands to the Fels. Jag intended to make it three.

"What was that all about?" Han asked, reaching for the cards.

"Planning his wild bachelor party for later tonight, no doubt," Wedge said.

Lando scowled. "What? We're not wild enough for you?"

Soontir laughed. "Come now, Calrissian. No son should have to endure such an event with his father present."

"Yeah," Han added, glowering at Soontir as he started to deal the cards, "and no father should have to hear about the existence of such an event before his daughter's wedding."

"Don't worry," Jag said. "It's nothing like that."

"You sure?" asked Lando.

"Because I was really hoping you had some Twi'lek dancing girls on the way," Wedge said. "Are they running behind schedule?"

"At this point," Jag muttered, "I doubt I could even get _those _through our security." When the others gave him befuddled looks, he added, "Never mind."

"Shame," said Lando.

"It's for the best," Wedge said. "With all due respect to your other son –" He gave an apologetic nod to Soontir. "– if you're not going to have the event hosted by Wes Janson, you might as well not have it at all."

Han laughed. "Right. As if _any _of us would be allowed at a Janson-sponsored bachelor party."

Lando feigned shock. "What are you suggesting?"

"That Leia would feed me her lightsaber for breakfast," Han said. "And your wives – or Jaina – would all do the same."

No one tried to argue.

Unbidden, Jag's gaze traveled to the main entrance. "Speak of the devil."

They all looked. It was him, all right. Aged, but unmistakably Janson. The woman on his arm, on the other hand…

"Wow," Lando said. "She looks young enough to be his daughter."

Han laughed. "She looks younger than any of our _actual _daughters."

"Except maybe Myri," said Wedge, agape.

"Maybe," Han agreed.

For a moment longer, they all stared. Then Soontir said, "Well, good for him."

"Too bad for her, though," Wedge said. They all laughed.

"Speaking of daughters," Han said, finally picking up his cards to examine them, "Lando Junior sure could use a little sister. How about it, buddy?"

"Don't even joke about it," Lando said, grimacing. "I can hardly keep up with one. I couldn't possibly handle two."

"Oh, come on. It wouldn't be that bad." Han grinned. "Leia and I are managing just fine with Amelia."

Wedge cleared his throat. "Uh, Han? You do realize she's only one kid, right?"

"Who's old enough to feed and dress herself," Soontir added helpfully.

"Thanks," Lando said, rolling his eyes. "You guys really know how to encourage a person."

"Any time," Wedge said.

"Well, one's going to be more than enough for me. You want any more screeching infants in your lives –" Lando tossed a thumb in Jag's direction. "– you take it up with _him_."

Just like that, Jag found four gazes fixed right on him. For the moment, the game was forgotten. "No comment."

Han's eyes narrowed. "Is there something I need to know, Jag?"

Jag blinked. "Uh… no?"

Now it was a full-blown glare. "There'd better not be."

"I can assure you, Solo," Soontir said calmly, "whatever may or may not have happened under my roof, it was entirely – one might even say enthusiastically – mutual."

"That'll be enough, Father," Jag said, holding up his hands beseechingly.

"Are you sure?" Wedge asked. "Because I'd really like to hear more about –"

"Positive," Jag said, glaring. Wedge only winked at him. "How about we all call a momentary truce, and resume the game in a few minutes?"

After nods all around, Jag reached over and put a hand on Han's arm. "Got a minute?"

Han smiled. "Sure, kid. But you know I was only joking, right?"

"_Mostly_ joking."

"Close enough for family." Han stood up. "So, fire away."

Jag rose too. He steeled himself, then jumped right in. "Well, I was hoping to ask you a very large favor…"


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Even without opening her eyes, she knew it was well past dawn. It had been long after midnight by the time Jaina had rescued Jag from any further losses at the sabacc game downstairs, so they hadn't bothered to draw the shades. No, that wasn't really it. More like, they'd had better things to do with their hands by the time they'd stumbled through the door. She smiled, remembering their antics, and slowly opened her eyes to share her warm expression with Jag.

Staring at the empty, white pillow next to her, her smile faded a little. Then Jaina noticed something nestled in the fold of the coverlet just below Jag's pillow. Reaching across, she gently extricated the item and held it up before her face. Nestled in her palm, the delicately folded flimsi in the shape of a snubfighter caused the corners of her mouth to curl up once more.

Rolling onto her back, Jaina held the flimsi snubfighter above her. She unfolded it carefully, trying to commit the pattern to memory. Someday she would figure out how Jag created his special notes, but when the time came for her to learn she crashed and burned with remarkable consistency. With the flimsi now unfurled, Jaina recognized her fiancé's neat handwriting. _Duty calls, special top secret assignment. ERT unknown. Love, YW._

Her lips pursed momentarily, wondering about the nature of this supposed top secret assignment. Reaching into the Force, she easily located his presence, a shining supernova of focused determination among an island full of relaxed, carefree guests. Sensing no pressing call of duty, but rather a desire to please, Jaina figured Jag was simply working on some yet-to-be-discussed detail for the wedding. With the day fast approaching, they would all be immersed in preparations right up until the moment Jaina walked down the aisle.

Walk down the aisle. Stretching her arms over her head, Jaina absorbed that thought. She and Jag had been down this road once before. But back then they hadn't made it as far as Bolis Island; she had run off to nowhere in particular. Now, though, there was nothing Jaina wanted more than to take this next step. Nothing was going to deter her from snagging happiness. It was a new beginning – for them both.

Snuggled like a bug between the sheets, Jaina was content to curl up for an extra snooze. She tugged on Jag's pillow, folding herself around it. One deep inhale brought the familiar spicy scent of her lover. Her eyes began to drift close –

_Danger!_ Her perceptions blared. Muscles wrenched into action.

She rolled over Jag's pillow. Rounding to face up, Jaina caught a glimpse of her attacker. Tall, humanoid.

His weapon bore down on her. Her right arm stayed tucked tight, her left arm reached out to summon her lightsaber from the nightstand. The weapon slapped into her palm just as Jaina landed on the floor in a heap of sheets and pillows. As her thumb brushed the power switch, something smashed into her hand. There was no hum of a blade, only the ominous sound of the _beskar_ handle clattering against the wall.

Swimming through the bedsheets, Jaina somersaulted forward. Bedfoam creaked, then a resounding thud of feet on the floor sounded behind her. In mid-tumble, a sharp crack across her back caused a cry of pain to spill from her lips.

"Watch the goods," she growled, spinning to finally take in her opponent.

The towering Yuuzhan Vong male left her no time to size him up as an opponent. He charged, forcing Jaina to backflip out of the bedroom and into the wider venue afforded by the suite's living room.

She kicked, connecting with chin just before her legs became entangled with arms and amphistaff. Both she and the Yuuzhan Vong toppled to the floor.

Jumping to her feet, she stretched her Force awareness past the void of her opponent, into the bedroom, and locked onto the presence of her newly completed lightsaber. As the Yuuzhan Vong struggled to his feet, the hilt whizzed past his head and landed in her grasp.

The silver blade hissed to life, and the Yuuzhan Vong hesitated from renewing his charge.

"I thought we put this all behind us?" Jaina sidestepped, placing the conformcouch between them.

He shifted, trying to reduce the obstruction, all the while spitting out something in his native tongue. The words or his intention were impossible to discern beyond one lone name – _Yun Harla_. He paused, apparently appraising the possibility of scaling over the couch.

"Funny how it's only in the holovids that the aliens all speak Basic," she muttered while making a threatening wave with her lightsaber. If she could just ease close enough to the intercom –

Her attacker pounced onto the back of the couch, then jumped straight at Jaina, slicing downward with his amphistaff. She sidestepped, flipping her wrist. A thrum of fast moving energy was followed instantly by the stench of scorched flesh. An arm, weapon still clutched firmly within its grasp, landed between the couch and the low table with a loud thud.

"Now see what you made me do?" Jaina twirled her lightsaber, hoping it was enough deterrent to make her opponent reconsider renewing his aggression.

He stared at his severed arm for a heartbeat, then howled something more about _Yun Harla_ before charging for the window.

The Yuuzhan Vong approached the window at full speed, stutter-stepped, then sprang at it. Wincing in anticipation, Jaina was surprised when there came no loud crash or shattering of glass. The sheers covering the window whipped out with her fleeing attacker, then fluttered back in. No longer wondering about his point of entry, Jaina sprinted to the open window, expecting to see the Yuuzhan Vong plummeting the forty stories to his death. Instead she found a bioformed vine burrowed into the frame. She leaned out and spotted the Yuuzhan Vong clutching the vine as it grew at an unimaginable rate.

"Easy enough to fix." She slashed across the vine, but it reproduced new tendrils as quickly as she cut them. Stepping up her pace, she made little headway. By the time her brow dripped sweat, her attacker was a barely recognizable speck some twenty stories below. Jaina backed away from the window, pausing to eye the various floral arrangements and stacks of gifts that were scattered across the room. This was not how she had planned on spending her day, but she was determined to put this nonsense to a speedy end.

Exhaling in one slow breath, she returned her attention to the open window. In two powerful strides she leapt through, rounding in a flip, then Force-planted her feet to the building's exterior.

It had been years since she had Force-rappelled down the side of a skyscraper, and at first she fell perilously fast. She adjusted her body angle, and the increase in friction with her feet slowed her fall. Trouble was, her feet were bare and getting hotter by the second. She shunted the pain aside, knowing she was rapidly approaching the Yuuzhan Vong warrior.

Jaina glanced below, measuring her descent against the growth of the vine. Her timing had to be impeccable –

Throwing her weight toward the vine, she twisted her arm into it. Her shoulder screamed in agony from the sudden deceleration as she kicked out. Below her the Yuuzhan Vong looked up, shock registering across his tattooed face at the sight of her feet about to make contact with it. The kick's impact snapped his head back, and with only one arm his body flailed off the vine like a leaf. Releasing her hold on the vine, Jaina cartwheeled down the side of the building, her silver blade whipping in a blinding arc as she passed him. Another howl pierced the air, then suddenly fell silent.

Rounding back to a position parallel to the building, Jaina watched the warrior – now armless – plummet the remaining five stories. She had safely rated her descent by the time he bounced onto the roof above the first floor restaurant. His momentum caused him to tumble, thankfully toward the back service entrance and not the pristine boardwalk on the ocean side.

Using the Force to cushion her landing, Jaina bounded a few steps along the restaurant roof, then pulled up to a stop. Peering over the edge, she double-checked that her assailant was indeed dead. The unnatural angle of his spine was confirmation enough.

Not sensing any beings running over to inspect the source of the commotion, Jaina prepared to drop off the roof, then hesitated.

What was she going to do? Drag the body over to the ocean and toss it in? She really didn't want to comm upstairs to the security detail. More likely than not her assailant was a member of the militant Yuuzhan Vong faction which had become obsessed with Jaina since her duel with Caedus. And the last thing Jaina wanted right now was more attention brought to the tragedy in her life. She just wanted the next few days to be about this joyous celebration, about moving forward, about life not death.

Her fist flexed in determination bounced off her leg. The skin of her leg. Jaina's eyes widened and she glanced down at herself. Now she _really_ couldn't comm upstairs. It would not do for the nearly daughter-in-law of the Grand Moff to be discovered traipsing about in public wearing nothing more than Jag's old Twin Suns Squadron shirt. Her course of action now settled, she bent her knees in preparation to jump down into the service alley.

A motion below caused her to freeze, then sink slowly to the roof. A man approached the crumpled body. He moved cautiously, with carefully measured steps. In his right hand, he held a small holdout blaster. Kneeling next to the fallen Yuuzhan Vong, he used the fingers of his left hand to check for vital signs. There was no rush to grab a comlink, no frantic cry for help. In the Force, Jaina sensed only grim resolution. This man had to have been the accomplice; a Yuuzhan Vong couldn't just walk onto a heavily guarded island without some assistance.

Slinking along the rooftop, Jaina jumped down into a small service passage connected to the alley. She had been planning to sneak up behind him, but that was instantly revised as she heard the soft clop of footsteps. The man rounded the corner – and met the bone-jarring crush of Jaina's elbow to his jaw. He was unconscious before his body hit the ground.

She kicked the blaster aside, then patted him down. She found a vibroblade stuffed in his boot and a comlink, but no identification of any sort. Definitely the accomplice.

The comlink she could use, though. Tapping in the code to her parents, she pondered how exactly to explain her situation while she waited for an answer.

"_This is Han –" _Her father. _"– and Leia,"_ her mother interjected. _"We're tied up at the moment,_" her father continued,"_but if you leave a message –"_

Jaina snorted as she closed the line. Her parents were absolutely incorrigible, like two teenagers on their honeymoon. Then she thought about all they had been through, and realized they deserved to be happy. Which was all well and good, but while they were off busy being happy, who could she turn to? It had to be someone she trusted implicitly…

The right person – persons, actually – for her predicament came to mind almost instantly. She tapped in another code, and was pleasantly surprised when this time she got an answer.

"_Antilles," _the voice croaked.

"Uncle Wedge –"

"_Hey, Jaina. If this is about how much we skimmed from your poor groom, I was planning on giving it all back. Well, indirectly. In the form of a wedding present of sorts. You see –"_

"This isn't about the money, Wedge."

"_It's not?_"

"No." But Jaina certainly made a mental note to discuss it with Jag later. Hadn't he said the night had been a success? "I'm stuck in a bit of a situation and I need some assistance."

"_Whatever you need."_ Wedge sounded alert, command ready.

"Actually, I really need to talk to Iella…"

It took Jaina only a minute to explain, and thankfully neither Iella nor Wedge suggested Jaina should just comm Jag's father to handle the mess. Best of all, they assured her they would be down immediately.

So now she had one last thing to do before returning to her room. Trying to not look too hard at the Yuuzhan Vong's crumpled body, she managed to levitate it and place it next to his unconscious accomplice. Satisfied the pair wouldn't be found before Wedge and Iella reached the scene, Jaina slipped through a service door that led into the ground floor restaurant. This restaurant was closed for the morning hours, so she moved unnoticed, only stopping at the outskirts of the lobby.

Sneaking back to the room was proving to be an easier task than Jaina had anticipated. With the hour still early, only an occasional guest wandered around the lobby. Jaina waited for an opportune moment – one couple passed out of the lobby heading for the boardwalk, another guest engaged the desk attendant with a question – then sprinted for the bank of lifts. Using the Force, she nudged the call button as she approached, expecting the lift the couple had just vacated to open back up.

Unfortunately for Jaina, the nearest lift door swept open first, revealing none other than her old protector Winter and her former commanding officer Tycho Celchu. The sight of the half-dressed bride-to-be, clutching a lightsaber in one hand and a holdout blaster in the other, only drew two bemused smiles.

Jaina had no choice but to play along. "Winter!" Entering the lift, she hugged the older woman. "We're so glad you could make it."

Winter returned the embrace. "Tycho and I wouldn't miss this for the world."

Stepping away from the white-haired doppelganger for her mother, Jaina acknowledged Tycho with a quick kiss to his cheek. "I really want to catch up, but I have a fitting appointment I'm late for and –"

"And apparently you're going to make absolutely sure he gets it right," Winter said, eyeing the weapons in Jaina's hands.

Before Jaina could whip out a witty retort, Tycho's comlink squawked in a tone that demanded attention. "Celchu here."

"_Where are you?"_ Wedge's voice asked.

"Really, Tycho," Winter said. "The boys are so desperate for the good old days, they've resorted to using your command frequency."

The aristocratic Alderaanian held his palm up to placate her protest. He keyed the comlink. "Heading to breakfast with my wife."

"Excellent. I need you both. Meet me in the lobby post haste." The line closed, as if the erstwhile general had just doled out orders and dismissed the troops.

Knowing that Wedge's summons was her fault, Jaina drifted to the back of the lift and waved meekly at the departing couple. "See you later," she said as the lift swished closed.

Her finger paused over the floor buttons. She could go straight to the top, where there would invariably be a host of questions from the ISS guards that she didn't really want to answer. Or…

She depressed the button for one floor lower. The lift rose swiftly, and thankfully made no unexpected stops on its journey up. As soon as the door opened, she stuck her head into the hallway. Finding it empty, she trotted toward the double doors just to the left of the lifts. She raised her fist to rap on the door, but it opened before she could make the first knock. Her mother blinked in surprise.

"Jaina?"

Not waiting to be invited inside, Jaina scooted past her mother. "Good morning. Better untie Dad; playtime is over."

Leia ignored the remark and shut the door. "I was about to head up for your fitting appointment."

"Perfect." Jaina grabbed the door to open it. "You should go, then."

Her Jedi reflexes now rivaling Jaina's, Leia kept it held shut. "Without you?" She paused, and concern blossomed across her face. "Jaina, you're not having second thoughts –"

"I knew it!" Han exclaimed as he walked up to the two women. "That Imperial dictator pushed our daughter into his goodwill event of galactic proportions. Don't worry, sweetheart, I can have the _Falcon_ fired up and us all out of here within the hour. I'll even take Jag if you want me to."

"I'm not having second thoughts, Dad."

"Huh. Well, then why else would you be sneaking out in a shirt with weapons in both hands?"

"It's a long story. Just trust me on this, okay?" Jaina faced her mother and donned her most beseeching look, one worthy of Wynssa Starflare. "Can you please just go up to my suite? Raul will be there any minute, and I don't want to risk his wrath."

Her mother scrutinized Jaina carefully, and Jaina felt a probe in the Force too. Shoulders relaxing, Leia sighed. "But I don't see why we both can't –"

Grabbing her mother, Jaina spun her around to face the door. "Because if the ISS guards see I've gotten out undetected, they're going to lock me and Jag down like a couple of prisoners at Carcel. I might even end up with an Imperial escort down the aisle instead of Dad, and nobody wants that."

Still Leia resisted Jaina's nudging toward the door. "Fine. And how exactly are you going to get back to the suite, young lady?"

Jaina winked at her father. "Don't sweat it. With a little help from Dad, I'll be right up."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Holomag journalists.

Disgusting, conniving, meddling scum. Scourge of the galaxy.

Why'd it have to be holomag journalists?

Jag sighed. Because Bolis Island was hosting a celebrity wedding, of course. And not just any famous individuals, either. The daughter of perhaps the greatest celebrity couple in a century. The son of one of the most successful holostars of all time – who then, at the height of the Emperor's reign and the pinnacle of her own career, had disappeared into seclusion for decades.

This wedding was the stuff of legend.

Every holomag journalist who could possibly make it to Maramere would be here, in hopes of catching just the right holocap or acquiring just the right salacious tidbit. All to feed the public's infinite appetite for rumor and gossip about the galaxy's most powerful and notorious figures. All to line their own pockets with the profit to be made from the perfect scoop.

Jag bestowed an inward blessing upon Bolis Island's designers for their creation of the offsite berthing terminal. He was certain that never before had their decision been so thoroughly vindicated. The paparazzi were here, certainly, but they would get no closer to the resort itself. This wedding – this _event _– would be transmitted to the galaxy only by the professional reporting of a trio of renowned, respected Holonet correspondents his father had personally selected.

Legendary weddings, after all, were also _news_.

Fortunately, as legends go, Jagged Fel himself was merely a minor war hero of some marginal consequence, more prominent in the previous galaxy-spanning war than the most recent one. Absent from the galactic stage for nearly five years. Then thrust back into politics at the swift end to the war, overshadowed by the defeat of Jacen Solo and the rise of Admiral Daala.

Jag was known, all right, but he wasn't truly famous.

Which made his attempt to move his way through the bustling berthing terminal far easier than he initially had expected. A slim overcoat was enough to conceal his uniform, and a plain informal cap was enough to take his appearance totally out of character. Most of the arriving wedding guests, by contrast, did nothing to conceal their identities. There was little reason to bother. Although the official guest list was not public information, anyone with knowledge of the families involved or a rudimentary sense of galactic politics would have correctly guessed large sections of it anyway, leaving little mystery about who would be arriving here over the next day and a half. And of course some guests downright reveled in the spectacle, posing for the cameras and granting interviews as though this whole event was really about them. Right now, Jag was perfectly happy to grant them their narcissism and vanity. They were better cover for his passage through the terminal than any disguise could ever be.

Besides, no one – not even the paparazzi – could have expected the groom of the moment to be here. He would be ensconced at the resort, preparing nonstop for the role of a lifetime in the wedding of the decade. Not at this boring place, heading off to argue with bureaucrats and security agents over a simple –

"Hey! Jag!"

The male voice had cut through the murmur of the crowd like a knife through fizz pudding.

He thought he recognized the voice, but he couldn't quite place it. He stopped in place, scanning the bustling throng of guests, bodyguards, porters, service staff, and holomag journalists.

"Over here!"

That time the sound drew his focus, and he turned to see a pair of familiar faces grinning broadly as the man and his son pressed their way toward him. No wonder he hadn't picked them out before – they were wearing sharp civilian clothes, not Jedi robes. Jag headed in their direction, and moments later they were shaking hands.

"Congratulations, Jag," said Luke.

"Great to see you again," Ben added.

Jag smiled. "Thanks. And likewise."

A plaintive call echoed through the crowd. "Master Luke! Wait for us!"

Now _that _voice was unmistakable. Jag grinned. "When he didn't show up with Han and Leia, I was beginning to wonder where Threepio had run off to."

Luke affected a beleaguered expression. "Yes. I'm afraid we've had custody recently."

The three of them turned to see the golden protocol droid amble up to them. Right on his heels, as usual, was his blue-and-white astromech counterpart. Artoo warbled a greeting. "I agree," Threepio said. "It is a great pleasure to see you again, Master Jagged."

"Good to see you two, too." Jag looked back at Luke and Ben. "There's a repulsorsurfing excursion over the reefs that leaves in about an hour. A large group is going: Wedge's family, Tycho and Winter, Wyn and Cem, Lando… And Han and my father will definitely be there. It's their excuse to be as far away as possible for Jaina's meeting with the dressmaker."

Luke laughed. Ben didn't seem to quite get the humor. Luke patted him on the shoulder. "Trust me, you'll understand when you're older."

Ben shrugged. "Sounds like fun. But what about you?"

"Well, I'd certainly like to go, and I'm hoping to be back in time." Jag scowled, then sighed. "But it seems my attempt to have a surprise for Jaina delivered in time for the wedding has hit some kind of massive bureaucratic snag with Imperial security. So I'm off to deal with that first."

"Love to help," Luke said, flashing a sly grin, "but something tells me ISS would be none too pleased to have me show up."

Jag nodded. "The lightsaber might be helpful, though."

"Master Jagged," said Threepio, "if I might interrupt?"

Tempted as he was to say, _No_, Jag held his tongue. "Yes, Threepio?"

"While protocol is my primary specialty, bureaucracy is a significant component of one of my secondary subprograms. Mistress Leia had it installed during her days as Chief of State, and I have always made sure to keep it updated with the most current available –"

"Get to the point, Threepio," said Ben.

"Oh my, yes." The droid gestured with his hands. "Imperial bureaucratic regulations are included in my databanks, of course. So perhaps it would be prudent to have me accompany Master Jagged to assist him with his problem."

Again Jag had to fight back the words _Thanks but no thanks_ rising to his lips. He had to admit Threepio had a point. It was a reluctant admission – very reluctant, in fact – but Jag just had a feeling he was going to need all the help he could get on this one. So he suppressed his inward flinch and said, "Actually, that's a great idea, Threepio. I would really appreciate your help."

"It would be my pleasure," the protocol droid said.

Artoo beeped and blooped.

"You might as well," Luke replied. "There's nothing we'll need your help for the next few hours."

"Good plan," Ben said, glancing at the large chrono high on the far wall. "We'd better get moving if we want to get over there and checked in before the excursion leaves." Ben hefted both of their travel bags and started toward the exit.

Luke winked at Jag. "Impatience runs in the family."

Jag laughed. "Tell me about it."

Luke laughed too, and waved a farewell. "See you soon."

Jag nodded, and waved in return. Then he turned to the droids. "All right. Let's go do this."

A minute later they reached the front door to the massive suite the ISS had rented out for its temporary command center. The young attaché from the night before was waiting for him at sharp attention.

Jag tugged off the cap and motioned the attaché to follow him inside. Once the door closed behind them, he removed his coat. Without a word, the attaché took them from him. Jag looked around the small front room. ISS hadn't even bothered to set up a greeting area or post a receptionist. "Who do I need to see?"

"This way, sir."

Following the attaché, Jag decided not to remark on the fact that the young man hadn't actually answered his question. Whatever it signified, it probably wasn't a good sign.

Behind him, Artoo whonked. Jag didn't need a translator to get the meaning. "Yeah," he said, glancing back over his shoulder, "I noticed."

Along the corridor they passed several small offices to either side, each bustling with security agents and filled with all manner of datapads and computer stations. From the looks of it, ISS was monitoring every cough and sneeze on Bolis Island.

Finally they reached a closed door. To the smooth surface someone had affixed a handwritten flimsi. It read: LEGAL DEPARTMENT.

"Oh great," Jag said. "Lawyers."

The attaché gave a chagrined smile. "Worse, I'm afraid."

Jag raised a brow. "Worse?"

The door opened and they entered. The small room was empty. Plain white walls, dull tile floors. Not even a chair. A few meters across the room was drab gray counter and a single open portal in the wall behind it.

On his way out the door they'd entered, the attaché indicated the counter. "Good luck, sir."

Jag scowled. This was not good at all. He approached the counter, but found no bell or buzzer. So he simply called out, "Hello?"

"One moment, please," came a bland robotic voice from somewhere beyond the portal.

"Ah," Jag muttered. "Worse."

A few seconds later a legal droid passed through the portal and took up position opposite Jag behind the counter. Without preamble it said, "How may I assist you?"

Jag explained who he was and why he was here.

The droid was not impressed. "I'm afraid expediting your delivery is impossible."

"Why is that?"

"Additional time is required to evaluate the safety of any biological material due to –"

"You can't be serious."

"I am not programmed to make jokes, sir."

"There's no danger. We're not talking poisonous vipers or assassin beetles, here."

"Nevertheless," the droid said, "regulations require additional time to evaluate the safety of any biolog–"

"Yes, you already explained that. How do I go about requesting a waiver?"

"Safety regulations are not subject to waivers, sir."

"Of course they are."

"No, they are not."

Jag fought the urge to punch the droid in the face. "All regulations have exceptions and waivers. That's just the way things work."

The droid's metallic visage could not perform facial expressions, but Jag was pretty sure the droid would have rolled its eyes if it could have. "Perhaps the regulations you are familiar with." Was that condescension in its voice? "But ISS regulations have no such features."

"That can't be right," Jag said. He looked behind him. "Threepio, see if you can reason with our friend Barrister Tin Can."

"Why yes, Master Jagged, of course."

Jag stalked away from the counter and tried not to listen while the protocol droid and the legal droid argued with each other like a pair of electronic auctioneers. That was the problem with droids. They possessed gigantic quantities of information – and not an iota of common sense. Or appreciation of nuance. Or judgment.

No wonder Jacen Solo had been able to stage a coup so easily. Legal droids had lots of answers, but rarely did they understand what was the right question to ask.

"Master Jagged?"

He spun his heel and strode back to Threepio. "Yes?"

"I'm afraid he is being rather stubborn."

"How's that?"

"I have suggested six provisions under which an exception possibly could be made to permit your delivery to be released immediately, but he refused to invoke any of them."

Jag turned to the legal droid. "And why is that, exactly?"

"I admit his arguments may be technically correct," the legal droid replied. "But my duty is to ensure the –"

"Your duty is to apply and interpret ISS regulations, is it not?"

"Yes."

"Then how is a technically correct legal argument not satisfactory to you?"

"My duty is to ensure the –"

"Listen here, laserbrain. I'm getting married in two days," Jag said, gesturing wildly in the general direction of the resort, "and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you interfere with the perfect wedding for my bride."

"Touching," the legal droid said. It was utterly impassive. If Jag didn't know better, he would have thought it was bored. "But my duty is to –"

Jag balled his fists. "To hell with your duty," he shouted, slamming them down on the counter as hard as he could. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

"You're Jagged Fel. You already explained that."

It was a good thing Jag hadn't brought a blaster. "Yes, and that means I can have you deactivated and melted down with a single call to my father."

Behind him, Artoo emitted an electronic whimper. Not quite softly enough, Threepio said, "Oh, I'm sure he won't actually have him destroyed."

"The regulations of the ISS are not subject to summary revision, even by personal order of the Grand Moff," the legal droid said.

That was another problem with droids. They were much harder to intimidate than human beings.

"Yeah, and that would take too long, anyway," Jag said. He motioned to the droids and moved toward the door. "Come on, let's go. I should have known I'd just have to take matters into my own hands." Then he looked back over his shoulder at the legal droid. "I'll be back in an hour with my Mandalorian crushgaunts. We can discuss this matter further at that time."

He only got one more stride toward the door when the legal droid said, "Wait."

Jag glanced back but said nothing.

"The fourth provision C-3PO cited. On further consideration, perhaps it will enable me to release your delivery immediately after all."

"Oh?" Jag waved a hand in the direction of the counter. "Threepio, help our friend settle this promptly, will you?"

"I would be delighted, Master Jagged."

While the two droids prattled on again, Jag ran a hand over his face. He had forgotten what these kinds of Imperials could be like. In his youth, he'd been too young to really appreciate the differences between Bastion and Nirauan. After the Yuuzhan Vong war, his years in his father's service with the Chiss had only further blended the distinctions in his mind. And since Tenupe, he'd become used to being on his own. But now he was deep in the midst of unreconstructed Bastion Imperials, and would be for the foreseeable future – if not the rest of his life. This was going to take some getting used to.

Especially since, if Jag were truly honest with himself, he'd never quite been the same since those heady days on Borleias, and the missions that followed, all those years ago. Once you went Rebel, you never went back.

Artoo wheeled up beside him and gave an optimistic-sounding series of beeps and whistles.

Jag didn't really understand, but he smiled anyway. Soon enough he would be on his way, surprise delivery in hand. Problem solved.

He smiled again. If he'd fixed this, everything would be okay. This was a wedding on Bolis Island, not some crazy starfighter mission against impossible odds. After this, everything else was going to be smooth and uneventful. He could just feel it.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Exiting the lift on the top floor, Leia walked straight into a wall of grey-uniformed chests. The one on the left wore a pair of engagement insignias; the one on the right was adorned with over a dozen. She glanced up to meet the gaze of the ranking officer. A long way up. Apparently, the Imperials fed their ISS guards double portions, because this guy was huge.

"I'm expected," she said, and swept past.

One long step brought him right back into her path. "Name?"

Her time in the Imperial Senate came rushing back. Everything stood on procedure; nothing left to assumption, even identity. She forced a smile. "Leia Organa Solo, mother of the bride."

The behemoth nodded to his subordinate, who tapped on his datapad. "Leia Organa Solo. Nine o'clock audience."

Audience? Leia began to wonder if her husband's concerns might not be so overblown after all. She raised her gaze back to the lead officer. "As I said, I'm expected."

He did not return her smile. "It is oh-eight-fifty. You're early."

And he just stood there, unmoving. Behind Leia the lift chimed with a call from the lower levels, and its doors slid closed. No doubt summoned by the dressmaker and his entourage. At best, Leia had minutes to get in that room. Squaring her shoulders, she stormed forward. The behemoth moved to intercept, but came up short against an invincible wall. She triggered the announcer and tapped on the door with her knuckles for good measure.

"Jaina, it's Mom. Let –" Using her recall of her own suite one floor below, Leia visualized the door controls on the other side of the wall and nudged the entry button. "– me in."

The door snapped open. Leia whisked inside, making a mental note to talk to Soontir about his security. They didn't have much experience with Jedi, but that was no excuse for falling for such a simple ruse. If they were going to protect her daughter, they'd best get it right. Stopping just inside the door, Leia appraised the suite.

Presents were stacked atop the entire surface of the lone table in the living area, as well as a continuing stack along one wall. Several floral arrangements adorned locations around the room. One set of window drapes fluttered in the breeze. At first glance it appeared serene and homey, but instinctively Leia felt a definite sense of disarray and unrest.

Then again, perhaps it was merely the insistent buzzing of the room comm that was disconcerting. Simultaneously, she sensed Jaina reaching out to her in the Force. Leia hurried toward the comm panel, assuming Jaina was trying to reach her any way she could.

Stepping past the conformcouch, her foot hit something solid. She glanced down and let out an astonished gasp.

An _arm_? And not just any arm, but the familiar tattooed humanoid flesh of a Yuuzhan Vong. She left it there and skirted past, intent on answering the comm – and asking her daughter about exactly what had happened. She reached the wall panel and clicked the line open.

"I just found…" Leia hesitated. For some reason Jaina wanted this kept low-key.

"_Hi. Leia? Is that you?"_

"Jag? Yes, it is."

"_Is the dressmaker there?"_

"Not yet." Leia glanced over her shoulder at the arm, just to make sure it was still there. It was.

"_Oh, good. Can I speak to Jaina quickly? It'll only take a second."_

"Sorry, Jag. She's a bit... indisposed at the moment."

_"That's all right; I'm not in a rush."_

Blast! He was willing to wait. "It could be a few minutes."

_"Is she feeling all right? She said something didn't taste right with that cravat salad she had –"_

"Oh, don't worry, nothing like that."

There was a long pause on the other end. _"Is she there?" _

Leia bit her lip; she really didn't want to lie. "Just lots of things popping up unexpectedly. She and her father have it under control."

"_Yes, for me, too. Will you please let her know I called?"_

"Of course. Have fun repulsorsurfing, Jag." Leia slapped the comm disconnect just before the door announcer chimed.

Grabbing the arm, she frantically scanned the room for some place to hide it. She strode into the bedroom, spotted the closet and figured that was her best option. As the chime sounded again, Leia trotted over and propped the arm against the side where no clothes hung. She sprinted from the room, intent on reaching the door, when out of the corner of her eye she noticed something flop over the open window's sill.

Instantly her lightsaber slapped into her hand. Just as quickly, Leia's brain processed that the intruding object was a bare leg belonging to none other than her daughter.

"Jaina Solo!" Leia stored the weapon and grabbed her daughter's arm as it appeared through the window. "What in the blazes is going on?"

"I'm climb–" Jaina heaved herself over the sill. "–ing back in –" She pulled her second leg in. "– the way I left."

"I'm talking about _the arm_, young lady."

"Oh. That." Jaina's eyes darted toward the spot where Leia had discovered the amputated limb. "What did you do with it?"

The insistent double tone of the door announcer preempted Leia's answer. Glancing in the direction of the sound, she shoved her daughter toward the bedroom. "It's taken care of – for now. Get changed. I don't think we should keep Raul waiting."

Leia inhaled once, slowly, then calmly smoothed the front of her dress before moving toward the door. As she approached she toggled the entry button with a Force nudge. The door swished open. For all the anxious ringing of the announcer, Leia expected someone to barge inside. Yet there was no immediate rush or moans of complaint. Just an open door, and silence.

"Dahlings, I'm heeeeeere!" The expectant calm shattered, a short portly man swept into the room. His attire was something one would only find in Vadal City during Fashion Week, and generally on the models. Form fitting leggings, red on one side, orange on the other. A lengthy double-breasted suit coat in a vivid hue of purple with wide red pinstripes, topped off with oversized orange-piped lapels. On most it would seem obscene; on this balding man with white-rimmed, square-framed glasses and a slim wooden cane, the outfit accentuated his eccentric flair. He spun, examining the living area. "Wah-air-evah shall we put my things?"

He stopped, facing the lone table stacked with gifts. "This will have to do." He clapped his hands and several droids whirred through the door, each bearing a crate or case. "Here. Set up. Chop chop."

The droids erupted in a flurry of activity, parking their parcels to one side and immediately clearing the table of the gifts.

"I hope I'm not too late –"

"Weeenssah!" he cried out as Syal crossed the room's threshold. Tottering over to her, he leaned up to peck an air-kiss near each of her cheeks.

Syal smiled graciously. "It's been too long, Raul."

"It certainly has, dahling." Raul spun his cane before tapping it to the ground. "No one has ever come close to pulling off my crrrre-a-shuns since you were kidnapped to the Unknown Regions."

"I wasn't kidnapped, Raul. I left freely."

"Freely? Freeee-ly?" He whipped out the handkerchief stuffed in his chest pocket and fanned his face. "A superstar you were. Then poof! Lost beyond the outskirts of civilization. No one does that freely." Raul paused, his eyes darting and his voice lowered. "Ah, but I see! We're in the midst of them. Your secret is safe with me."

Syal winked at Raul before turning to Leia. "Have you met Leia and…" She peered deeper into the suite. "Jaina?"

"She had a little trouble getting up this morning. She'll be out in a moment." Leia shifted her attention to their guest. "Master Designer Gupta, it is my pleasure."

Raul waddled toward Leia. "No, the pleasure is all mine, Princess." He went through the same air-kissing routine. "All these years I have hoped beyond hope you would call upon me –"

"Oh, Raul, your dresses are too spectacular for someone of my stature. Unlike Sy–er, Wynssa, I could never pull them off."

He flopped both hands over. "Pish posh. That daughter of yours is just a slip of a girl and you will see – oh!" He stared slackjawed at the droids still bustling about in the corner. "Where. Is. The. Dress?"

The droids gave no reaction to the outburst. Instead they simply hefted the table between them and shuffled it out of the way, leaving open a large corner of the room.

"The-ah drrrrr-essss!"

"Yes, Master. I'm here." A pale humanoid peeked into the room. "The lift was rather slow, and the first one had people in it. And of course, the case wouldn't fit with anyone else, so I had to wait for another lift. Then those awful security guards –"

"Balki!" Raul hissed.

"Yes, of course." The humanoid – strangely, Leia couldn't identify his species; he was either a very fat Muun or a very tall Umbaran – began to guide an enormous hover-wardrobe through the door. "The dress."

As Raul crossed over toward the wardrobe, Leia shared a look with Syal. "Will they be able to find Jaina in the dress?"

Syal placed a hand on Leia's arm. "Have faith. Raul has unmatched talent and, appearances notwithstanding, impeccable taste. It will be perfect."

Leia watched the dressmaker and his assistant wrestle the wardrobe into the newly vacant corner. They clapped at controls and unsnapped shipping locks. Her eyebrow arched at the rakish colors of the man's attire, and Leia prayed for her daughter's sake that Syal was right.

Ten years previously, upon Jaina and Jag's first engagement, Leia had struggled mightily trying to get her daughter to choose a dress as the wedding drew near. Jaina was always stalking a band of pirates or volunteering for Jedi patrols. At the time, no one had recognized Jaina's seemingly unwavering sense of duty for what it truly was – a mask to hide her fears of committing to married life, and the unhealed trauma of the war that shaped them. So in the excited rush of preparations Syal had offered to contact her old friend, Raul Gupta.

As Wynssa Starflare, she had worn Raul's dresses to several high profile premieres. Her stamp of approval on his designs and the inevitable media frenzy surrounding everything she wore had propelled Raul's career to unprecedented heights. He owed his success entirely to Wynssa Starflare's fame, and he could hardly have refused her request to create the wedding gown for her future daughter-in-law. Jaina, rushing between one assignment and the next, had suggested they simply give the renowned dressmaker free rein on the design. With Jaina being who she was, certainly no expert in the subtleties of high fashion, no one had found her request troubling – not until after Jaina had dissolved the engagement…

So here they were, a decade later, another wedding days away, with a dress no one had ever seen – save this crazed, ostentatious man Jaina had never met.

"Ah!" Raul broke from directing Balki in their curious unpacking ritual and rolled across the room. "The bride-to-be!"

Jaina stood frozen in the bedroom doorway, and barely managed to gather herself to return the second air-kiss showered upon her by the dressmaker.

"Let. Me. See." He circled Jaina, sizing her up with his eyes. "Mmmhmmm. Uhn-nnnhh-uhh."

"Yes, yes. Excellent. Still about the same." He stopped in front of her and held his palms up, inches from her chest as if he were about to seize hold of her breasts. "Hmm? If I must say, a bit bustier."

Jaina's head tipped forward, the fall of a couple loose locks of hair concealing a blush.

Raul whipped his right elbow out. One foot pointed forward as he pivoted until he was beside her. "So, my dear. Shall we see your dress?"

With a small upturn in the corner of her mouth, Jaina replied, "I'd love to."

Together, Jaina and Raul strolled across the room. "Imagine my surprise," he started, "when Wynssa called after all these years. Did I save the dress, she asked. Of course, dahling, I told her. This –" He practically sniffled. "– was to have been my masterpiece. I was nearly broken-hearted when you cancelled."

"I'm sorry," Jaina said as they drew up before the wardrobe.

"Why?" Raul released her hand to spin around. "This, this is even bet-terrrr! Imagine me, Rah-oool Goop-tah, designing the dress for the wedding of the century. All eyes will be watching the event, a Skywalker marrying one of the Empire's brightest sons. If only I had realized back then what would happen now, I wouldn't have despaired." He paused, a chagrined frown on his face. "Oh my, what an awful thing to say. Ah, well, when you see the dress I know you will forgive me my little moment of vanity. Now, Jaina dahling, chop chop, off with those, uh, rags these Imperials give you as clothes."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Jaina tossed her mother a plaintive look. "Uh."

"Bahl-kee!" The dressmaker clapped his hands. "Help the poor thing."

As the assistant skittered across the room, Jaina backed up a step, then another. She thrust a palm forward and the humanoid bounced to a stop, practically falling to the ground. "I think I can manage. Um, do you mind?"

Raul's eyebrows arched. "No need to be shy, dear. It's not like I haven't seen a naked woman before."

Leia was about to intercede, when Syal smoothly appeared at Raul's side. "Oh, of course you have." The former holostar giggled, a peculiar sound coming from a mother of five, but Leia had to admit she could pull it off. "In fact, I remember a time or two right before the – "

"Don't!" Raul threw a palm out. "Don't say it."

Rubbing her hand down Raul's pinstriped sleeve, Syal said, "It's just that our sweet Jaina has suffered a few combat injuries over the years, and you know how we women can be insecure about even the slightest –"

"Say no more." Raul waved his hands officiously. "Let's leave the poor girl alone, Balki. We'll wait outside."

Balki tentatively sidled over to Syal and held out a handful of undergarments. "She can put these on." He bowed, then scurried out of the room after his master.

Syal waited until the door swished close behind the men before she turned to face Jaina, who was eyeing the undergarments skeptically.

"I hope you know how that… thing works."

The aging Corellian beauty carefully unfolded a corset fashioned from delicate lace. "I certainly do."

"The trouble," Leia added cheerily, "will be how will your groom get you out?"

"He'll manage," Jaina and Syal said in unison, and they both chuckled.

In the course of a minute, they had Jaina in the corset. Leia watched as Syal cinched up the laces on the sides. The dress was obviously low-backed, because the corset swept down to expose nearly Jaina's entire spine, and Leia found she couldn't take her eyes away from the smooth porcelain skin. Not one scar remained from Jaina's battle with her twin. Looking at her, Leia could image the battle had never happened, and she found her hand inexorably drawn by the temptation to touch.

Syal paused, noting Leia's awe. At the same time, Jaina peered over her shoulder. Leia suddenly couldn't see either of them as her eyes blurred. Her breath refused to come; her heart swelled. There were no words to describe the bittersweet emotions that crashed over Leia.

"Mom?"

"I'm all right." Leia patted her daughter's arm. She couldn't see it, but she knew instinctively where it was. With her other hand, she managed to catch Syal's fingers. The choice to send Jaina away with the Fels had been so difficult. Jaina was her last surviving child, and Leia had wanted so badly to hold onto her after losing Jacen, but she and Han had known that Jaina had needed something different. So they had entrusted Syal and Soontir to fill that parental role, to look out for Jaina while she had healed. Now here she was, happy and healthy. It was more than Leia had hoped for. "Thank you."

"Oh, no. Nonono." Jaina sounded perturbed. "There will be no crying."

Syal's arms clasped Leia to her. "Sorry, child. That's what mothers are supposed to do at weddings."

"We're not even at the wedding yet," Jaina countered. "It's two days away."

Leia stepped back, batting away her tears. "It's all the little steps along the way to losing our babies."

"Mom…" Jaina's protest ended where it started as she fell into her mother's arms. A rare gift as far as Leia was concerned. She relished the feel of Jaina there. In the womb, Leia had possessed ultimate control to protect the innocence of her children. Time and circumstances had peeled away that innocence, and ultimately taken two of her children from her. And in two days' time, Leia would watch another person take over the mantle of Jaina's protector. The unguarded moment was short-lived, though; Jaina stiffened. Leia noted the gleam of a watery sheen in her daughter's eyes when she stepped back.

Jaina wrapped her right arm around her mid-section to grip her left elbow. "About that dress."

"I'll just let Raul back in." Syal paused and glanced back. "If that's all right with you?"

Jaina tugged at the top of the corset. "As ready as I'll ever be."

The tall blonde summoned the dressmaker and his assistant back into the suite. Raul entered, sweeping his arms wide. "Balki, the dress."

Between Raul's frenzied directions and Balki's frantic movements, a strange scene unfolded. They opened the wardrobe, but only part way, enough to drag out several long sticks. These were passed to the droids, who set the sticks in a neat semi-circular formation around the wardrobe. Balki walked along the formation, and when he pointed a controller unit at it an opaque holoscreen rose to the height of about two meters between one stick and the next. The wardrobe was now hidden from view, except for the very tops of its doors swung wide open.

Leia raised up in vain on her tiptoes, and she could hear little except for Raul and Balki still fluttering around. Finally Raul stuck his head through one of the projected screens and beckoned Jaina inside.

So Syal and Leia waited, each trying to appear patient and both doing a particularly bad job of it. Behind the screens there was a great deal of chattering, but nothing to indicate how Jaina felt about the dress.

Eventually Raul said, "Now turn around so you can have a look."

Jaina's shock emanated through Leia so hard she gasped. Beside her, Syal took Leia's hand. The two women locked stares momentarily. The lines around Syal's mouth were the only indication she might actually hold some concern about the dress as well.

"Shall we show them?" Raul asked.

Leia never heard a reply from Jaina. The poor girl had been rendered speechless. One by one, the holoscreens descended. Leia rushed forward, intent on comforting Jaina as best she could. Then she stopped, frozen in place at the sight before her.

Her daughter stood in a profile pose, her face bent down toward the dress. The unmistakable streaks of tears were evident on her cheek. But somehow, it all seemed right. She was a vision – feminine, beautiful, larger-than-life. A princess in her own right, yet still undeniably Jaina.

Leia sighed. "It's perfect."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Perched cross-legged on a synthleather rolling chair at the desk stationed in the corridor outside their suite, Jaina entered a few finishing touches into her memo. After one final skim, she transmitted it. Then she straightened, arching her back and rolling her neck against the discomfort that had settled into her body. Finally she achieved a distinct pop in her vertebrae, and sighed. Only then did she glance at the timestamp displayed on the datapad before her.

She had been there for a while. Still, better to be thorough than complacent. Despite all the security measures, an assassin had managed to gain access to their suite. What if she had been gone, and it had been Jag lying in the bed…

Jaina squeezed her eyes shut, willing the horrific thought from her brain. Down the hall, she heard the distinct ping of another datapad receiving a transmission. Forcing a polite smile, she called out to the security officer in possession of that datapad. "Major Fiore, that will be my notes on the improvements to the security protocols which need to be implemented."

When the tall man didn't immediately look to his pad, she added, "I've copied my fiancé, his brother and the Grand Moff, of course."

This brought him around, and he raised the datapad up, eyes darting as he read. His brow furrowed once, followed by a clench in his jaw – not to mention the simmering distrust and anger rolling off the man in waves. So Jaina wasn't at all surprised when he raised his blue-eyed stare and voiced his opinion.

"Snipers on the northwest and southeast corners? Seems a bit excessive. It's not like someone can climb up to these suites."

And that was the problem with ISS security protocols. For the most part, the population of the Remnant was human. While they occasionally fought non-human foes, they still assumed that all their adversaries thought like humans, if not Imperial humans. Everything about this man's training and career left him all but completely incapable of comprehending just how easy it had been for her attacker to make that climb.

Not that Jaina had actually mentioned this morning's attack – much less the intruder or his methods – in her report, of course. Unfortunately, nothing short of actually telling him would get through his thick skull.

If Soontir was really going to usher in a new age for the Empire, years of close-minded thinking needed to be broken down. At least he was used to dealing with Chiss, an alien society, and would be open to change. The ISS was going to be a much tougher nut to crack. And if they didn't adapt to these dangerous times, someone close to Jaina was going to get hurt.

Then, abruptly, inspiration struck. Jaina rose and walked toward the lift.

"Where are you going?" Fiore moved to follow her.

"Down. I'm going to show you just how wrong you are." Stopping at the lift, she punched its call button. The door began to whisk open immediately as she glanced over her shoulder at the doubt-filled security officer. "I'll be back up in a few."

"Would you like some company on the way, then?" asked a familiar voice from inside the lift.

"Jag." Jaina faced him just in time to find herself engulfed in his arms.

"I missed you." The strength of his embrace confirmed the sentiment.

She hugged him back. "I missed you, too."

He stepped back, quickly eyeing the security officer before turning his attention back to her. "Where are you off to?"

"To prove a point." She cast a meaningful glance in the officer's direction. "The Major and I have something of a disagreement on several details of the security measures."

"Sir, respectfully…" Then Fiore obviously reconsidered, and Jaina even didn't have to look to know Jag had donned the Fel-means-business face. "I'll discuss Lady Solo's suggestions with your brother at our next status briefing."

She shook her head. "Not good enough. Why don't you tell my fiancé what I was off to do."

Fiore clenched his teeth, holding his silence.

"Major?" Jag said sternly.

"Apparently, to prove that it was possible to scale the resort tower." When Jag remained stone-faced at the admission, he prattled on. "Of course, Lady Solo is an accomplished Jedi. Her powers prove nothing about the capabilities of any ordinary threat. And it's not as though there are legions of Sith Lords prowling the galaxy –"

"Enough," Jag growled.

The major flushed, then snapped to attention. "I apologize."

It took Jaina a second to understand which part of the litany had triggered Jag's offense. But somehow it didn't strike the chord in Jaina that Jag apparently feared. In fact, Jaina felt Jacen so strongly in the place where their twin bond resided that Caedus now seemed only a hazy memory. Jaina knew her brother still existed in the Force, happy for her and these days ahead. A small smile formed on her lips, and she touched Jag on the forearm.

"It's all right. I'm sure he'll see reason soon enough without me showing off." She wrapped her arm in his. "Come inside and tell me all about the repulsorsurfing."

Briefly Jag's green eyes searched hers before he inhaled a long, slow breath. "I'll be right in."

With a tip of her head, she left him to administer the admonishment he felt necessary. Undoubtedly her recommendations would be implemented within the hour. She scoped out the living area, just to be sure one last time that there were no telltale signs of the earlier struggle. Despite herself, she chuckled. The dressmaker and his entourage had been far more disruptive than the Yuuzhan Vong warrior. Behind her the door closed, and Jag slipped up behind her.

"I'll tell you about the repulsorsurfing…" He breathed into her hair as his arms wrapped around her. "But first, you tell me about the dress."

She leaned back into him. "It went well."

"And?"

"And how does it look?"

His eyebrow arched.

"Fabulous, of course." She affected an offended tone. "Why? What are you suggesting?"

"No," he said, not falling for it for a second. "I meant, what does it look like?"

"That –" Jaina popped out of his embrace. "– is a secret, Jagged Fel."

"But I thought we agreed to share everything?"

She sidled toward the bedroom. "Oh? Such as the purpose of your secret mission this morning?"

"Point taken." Jag followed, his long stride allowing him to catch her easily. Just inside the bedroom he snatched her hand, tugging Jaina to him. "You can't fault a guy for wanting some mental image of his future bride in her wedding gown."

"No hints, flyboy. Expectations are hard enough to live up to." Suddenly a vision popped into Jaina's mind, clear as a Holonet broadcast, of her striding down the aisle wearing –

The thud of her hand against his chest didn't do justice to her outrage. "Put some clothes on me!"

"I have a better idea. How about I take some off?" He grinned, then buried his face in her neck. The sensation of his lips teasing her pulse left Jaina momentarily speechless, save a little moan.

Her pleasure was short-lived. Jag tore away, walking towards the refresher and yanking his shirt over his head. "I think I'll shower."

After watching him disappear into the smaller room, Jaina flopped onto the bed and muttered, "Tease."

She shut her eyes and listened to the sound of running water. It took little for her to imagine Jag in quite the same predicament he had envisioned for her moments ago. Oh yes, Jaina was quite content to wait through his little delaying tactic. Patience was a Jedi virtue, after all. Rather quickly, the trickle of water ended, and she sensed his presence exiting the refresher.

Opening her eyes, she found Jag, wrapped in a towel from the waist down, standing at the foot of the bed. With a second towel, he rubbed the moisture from his hair. Her eyes ambled down across his hard chest, his riveted abs, his – swollen, yellow and blue mottled ribs?

"What did you do to yourself this time?"

He glanced down and poked at the discoloration, wincing slightly.. "One too many daring moves on the repulsorboard."

She sat up. "Showing off for the holojournalists?"

"Actually, trying to keep pace with your dad." Throwing the towel over his shoulder, he walked to the nearest dresser and rifled through the top drawer. "That man is truly crazy."

"Like you're in any position to talk. I've seen some of the stunts you pull."

"No, Fels resist fear. There is a distinct difference between being fearless and being utterly irresponsible. Or perhaps utterly delusional. I still haven't decided which one he was when your father reverse-looped into a double rotation, landing backwards." He looked over his shoulder for a second and smiled. "You're definitely your father's daughter."

"Thanks, I think. I just hope those holojournalists got some footage. That I want to see."

Jaina watched Jag, now with fresh briefs in hand, move away from her toward the closet. He was obviously enjoying this little game of tuskcat and motimouse. Fine. She was perfectly happy to let him get dressed completely before she made him take all his clothes right back off…

His clothes…In the closet!

Jag's fingers had just closed on the closet handle when Jaina sprang from the bed. Her back slammed the door closed not a second too soon. Trying to act casual despite her explosive maneuver, Jaina lifted her brown eyes and met Jag's very self-satisfied smirk.

Since he seemed none the wiser, Jaina played along with his game. "Why bother?"

He rested a palm on the door just beside her head. "With clothes?"

She bit her lip in response, all the while pondering how she was going to keep Jag from finding the arm. In the meantime, Jag took her non-verbal response as a sign to proceed with his game and set about nibbling his way along her right earlobe.

A shrill alarm saved Jaina from her own weak knees. "I'd better get that."

She didn't dare move yet, though, lest he open the closet and find that blasted arm. The comlink alarm trilled a second time, and she made a snap decision. Spinning in place, Jaina strategically bumped Jag back with her hip, then blindly reached into the closet and grabbed for a pair of slacks and shirt. Lucky for her, Jag never wavered from dark on the bottom and white on top, so whatever she picked was bound to match.

"Better get dressed. We still have lots on our plates today."

She stuffed the clothes into Jag's arms, then barreled him over to the refresher. He barely had time to manage a half-spoken protest before she slammed the door shut in his face. Jaina blew her bangs as she waited a few heartbeats to be sure he wasn't going to try and come back out. The comlink signaled again, and Jaina sprinted to the living room.

Wedge. Catching her breath, she clicked it on. "Go ahead."

"_Can you talk?"_

"Not really." Her brain furiously pondered options. "Give me fifteen."

One click indicated Wedge's acknowledgement before the line closed. By the time Jaina gathered her wits and strolled back into the bedroom, Jag emerged from the refresher, fully clothed. "So what else do we have on our plates?"

"You –" Jaina moved in his direction. "– need to find your brother."

"Oh, no need to worry. Major Fiore has already begun to implement your suggestions."

Grabbing Jag by the hand, Jaina tugged him out of the bedroom. "I have no doubt of that." She tugged him all the way to the front door before he dug in his heels and stopped her. "No, you need to find your brother to make arrangements."

"For what exactly?"

Jaina opened the door. "To share his room."

"What?" Jag realized he had an audience –Fiore and one other security officer – and lowered his voice. "I have a perfectly good room right here, with you."

"You did." Jaina propped her hands on her hips. "But I've been thinking, weddings are all about anticipation. Nights to remember and all that."

He reached out to embrace her, and spoke softly so only Jaina could hear him. "I assure you, Jay, our wedding night will be one to remember."

"Good," she said, swatting his hands away.

"See?" He tried again, reaching for her. "Then there's no need –"

Smiling, Jaina shoved Jag hard, sending him stumbling backward into the corridor. "No, it'll be much better if we save our energy for the wedding night." Jag just stood there, gaping at her. "Now, go find Cem, because I'm going to have the good major here change the lock codes just to be sure you keep your end of the bargain."

Then, before he could say anything, she used the Force to shut the door in his face.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Han walked out of the 'fresher and stood before the wide windows, which gave him a remarkable view of the glimmering blue Maramere ocean. Scrubbed clean and fresh from the salt and sand that had been wind-blasted into his skin during the repulsorsurfing excursion, he savored the sight for a long minute.

Then he reached for the control panel, and the button which would shift the window tint and plunge the room into darkness.

It was time for a nap.

Just before his finger pressed the button, a sharp warble echoed through the bedroom. His comlink. And not Leia calling, either. Of course.

Sighing, Han strode over to the table. He snatched up the device and activated it. "Solo."

"It's Fel," said Soontir's voice.

"Leia's not here. I assume they're still busy with the dressmaker."

"Syal's not here either, so I'm inclined to agree. But that's not why I'm calling."

"Oh? Well, if you're looking for a massage, you'd better call someone else."

Fel chuckled. "Trust me, I would. Are you busy?"

"Depends why you want to know."

"Points for candor. I was checking to see if you would be available to meet me in the main lobby to greet one of our arrivals."

"Who?"

"It will be more fun if it's a surprise."

Han rolled his eyes. "Have it your way."

"Wear something nice, but not too formal. I don't want to give the wrong impression."

"Blood stripes. Got it. I'll meet you down there in ten."

"Make it seven."

"Fine." Han shut off the comlink and slapped it down on the table. "What, you think you're my commanding officer or something?"

Despite his frustration, he paced over to the closet and picked out a shirt and slacks combination that fit the bill. A few minutes later, he emerged from the turbolift into the ornate lobby of the Grand Hotel. Glancing around, he saw Fel standing near the main entrance, his entourage trying and failing to look discreet.

"All right, I'm here," Han said when he reached his old rival. "Ready to tell me who we're waiting on yet?"

"No."

Han scowled. "Glad I could help you out, then."

Fel flashed a mischievous grin. "It will be worth the wait."

"Better be."

Han turned to the entrance. Almost on cue, he watched a pair of Mandalorian commandos march into the hotel. "Hey, wait a minute," he said accusingly to Fel, "I thought we made it perfectly clear that Daala's goon squads weren't welcome."

"They're not," Soontir shot back.

"Captain Solo!" One of the Mandalorians, a woman in saffron-adorned armor, was waving at him.

Brow raised, Han waved back tentatively.

Striding briskly toward him, the woman removed her helmet.

When she arrived, Han shook her hand. "It's good to see you well, Mirta."

"Especially under better circumstances." Her companion stepped up from behind her, also removing his helmet.. "This is my husband, Ghes Orade."

"A pleasure to meet you," Ghes said as they shook hands.

"And this," Han said, "is Jag's father, Soontir Fel."

Fel shook their hands, ignoring their attempts to be deferential to the Empire's newest leader. "I know Jaina will be delighted you were able to make it."

Mirta smiled. "Ghes and I are hoping her _jetii_ friends will duplicate the bottle-opening feat she performed at our wedding."

"Or something better," Ghes said with a grin, then indicated the reception desk. "We'd better go check in."

After they were gone, Fel said, "They seem nice enough for Mandolorians. Syal was worried when Jaina insisted on inviting them."

"It's good they –" Han stopped when he saw another figure in Mandalorian armor walk through the main doors. "But she sure as hell didn't invite _him_."

Han didn't even realize his feet were moving until he found himself standing in front of Boba Fett.

"Hello, Solo." Slowly and deliberately Fett took off his helmet and tucked it into his elbow. "Congratulations on your daughter's nuptials."

"You could have sent a card." Han glared, inwardly kicking himself for forgetting his blaster upstairs. "So, what? Now you've gone from bounty hunter to wedding crasher?"

Behind him, Soontir stifled a snort.

"We just saw Mirta arrive with Ghes," Han continued, "so I know you're not her date. And I know for a fact you're not on the guest list, so you might as well just turn around and –"

Fett laughed. "Oh, you're correct, Solo. I'm not here as a guest. But I _am _here as a date."

"What?" Han blinked. "Whose?"

He glanced over his shoulder to Fel, who could offer only a raised brow and befuddled shrug.

Fett grinned, and canted his head toward the doors behind him. "Hers."

Han had to keep his jaw from bouncing off the floor as he watched Chief of State Daala sweep through the entrance, accompanied by a retinue of aides and porters. Shoulders straight, head held high, she acted like she owned the place. Han wanted to rip that smile off her face with his bare hands. He would have, too, if it weren't for the six Senate guards who followed her through the doors..

Fel edged around him and moved toward Daala. Keeping a step behind, Han followed.

"Daala," Fel said, stepping in front of her with a fake grin on his face and his hands spread wide in greeting, "how wonderful to see you again."

After motioning Fett and her aides to keep a respectful distance, she granted him an equally fake smile in return. "Fel. I've been looking forward to this. I was so delighted –" From her tone, it sounded like she meant _disappointed_. "– to learn you were still alive after all those years vanished into the Unknown Regions."

Fel's grin became a subtle smirk. "Likewise, Admiral."

"Indeed." She gestured with a hand, encompassing the ostentatious lobby around them. "Remarkable, isn't it, General? How circumstances have changed?"

"I'm not sure I take your meaning."

"For the both of us. Two exiles from the Empire. Traitors, surely, in the eyes of some. And yet now we lead two of the most powerful governments in the galaxy."

"Ah. Yes." Fel gave a curt nod. "I suppose there is some irony in that."

"More than a little." The look in Daala's eyes was wicked, almost mad. Then suddenly she grew sad – and genuinely so, as far as Han could tell. "Still, I wish we had not had to lose Gilad for these circumstances to come to pass."

This time Fel's nod was genuine, too. "That is something we can both unequivocally agree on."

"Yes." The mad look was back now. "I doubt we would agree as much on the proper fate for some of the Moffs you now lead."

"Perhaps not. Although I imagine we may not differ so much on a few." Fel leaned in, almost conspiratorial, and Han had to listen closely to hear him. "I almost have the impression you would trade places with me, just to have the pleasure of dealing with those Moffs yourself."

Daala's only reply to that was a grin. "Well, I will just have to content myself with dealing with the Jedi." When Fel raised a brow, she continued, "Oh, I am quite looking forward to personally serving Master Durron with the formal subpoena to appear before the Caridan Tribunal."

Fel's lips curled into a smirk again. "I hate to disappoint you, Natasi, but I'm afraid that won't be possible."

"Is he unable to attend? What a shame. I am certain Jaina would want all her lifelong friends to be here."

"Oh, he's here." Fel's grin was expanding. "But you have no authority to serve an Alliance subpoena within Imperial territory. And serving it anywhere else will be problematic as well, as I've just signed papers assuring Master Durron's diplomatic immunity."

Daala's gaze went suddenly dark, and vicious. "What?"

Han had to hand it to Fel. His pair of bombshells had been delivered with the strategic precision of an ace fighterjock. Daala was so stunned by the combined volley she apparently couldn't even grasp which one to question first.

Fel wore a mad grin of his own now. "I'm afraid the Alliance's resort taxation quotas have been suffocating the planet's economy. Maramere's ruling Protectorate determined the Empire's offer better suited their needs. But I'm sure you'd rather assess the details of the treaty once the wedding is behind us."

Han almost laughed out loud. Then he realized he had no idea what Fel was talking about. "Hey, when –"

Fel gave him the universal gesture for _shut it_. When Daala only continued glaring, he added, "Oh, yes, Master Durron. I've offered him a position as a Special Envoy between the Empire and the Jedi, as well as an appointment as a Special Advisor to the ISS in matters involving the Force."

"This is outrageous," Daala spat. "You have no authority to –"

"Of course I do," Fel said, all quiet and calm. "We aren't the old Empire, and we will countenance no reprisals against the Jedi or other Force users simply for who they are. In fact, we welcome the contribution they can bring to our efforts to bring peace and prosperity to the people of the galaxy, within the Empire and without."

"Save it for the Holonet, General." Her eyes narrowed. "You won't get away with this."

"Actually, I think I will."

Daala scowled, and turned to leave. "I'll see you at the wedding."

That drew Han out of his observations. He shot around Fel and straight into her path. "No, you won't."

"Ah. Solo." The fake smile was back. "Congratulations on your daugh–"

"Spare me," he said, making sure to glower extra hard. "Better read that invitation again. You're invited to the reception and related festivities. That's it."

Daala put on a mock sad face. "How disappointing."

Han took a step closer. "You're here because you have to be. Politically. Nothing more. But if you think I'm going to let you use my little girl's wedding as a public relations spectacle, you're even more insane than I thought."

"I see." She was all business, and full of ice. "I'm sure the slight to the Chief of State will not go unnoticed on the Holonet."

"I'm sure you're right." He held her gaze. "My father-in-law killed the Emperor, and my daughter killed your immediate predecessor. You think I'm worried if my family does a little political snub to a head of state?"

Daala said nothing. She gave only the slightest of tips of her head, then stalked back toward Fett, who had been waiting in his trademark silent-but-deadly pose.

Han turned to Fel. "You're right. That was definitely worth the surprise."

Fel shook his head. "Polite as always, Solo."

"Oh, give me a break." He gave him a single pat on the back. "Better my honesty than all that phony garbage you were spouting."

Fel raised a brow. "Would your wife say the same?"

"Probably not. But she's not here, is she?"

"I suppose not."

Han drew up tall. "That felt good."

They started to walk toward the turbolifts. "Hey, that stuff you said about Kyp. Is it really true?"

"It will be." Fel flashed a smirk. "The immunity papers exist. As for the official offer of his Imperial role, it has yet to be laid on the table. I'm leaving that part up to your daughter."

Which meant there was no way Kyp could possibly decline. Well played. "Pretty sneaky of you, Fel."

"A scoundrel's approval. What more could I ask for?"

"You've been watching too many holodramas. I haven't been a scoundrel since –"

"Father." Jag moved across the lobby at a pace that almost made the unflappable young man look rushed.

"Jagged," Soontir said, holding up a palm. "What's wrong?"

"It's Jaina."

Han's heart skipped a beat. "What happened?"

"She… uh…" Suddenly Jag didn't so much look panicked as embarrassed. "She threw me out."

Soontir raised a brow. "Explain."

Jag ran a hand through his hair. "I was getting cleaned up from repulsorsurfing when she just shoved me to the door. She told me to share a room with Cem tonight, that we needed to… uh, anticipate our wedding night."

Soontir's eyebrow arched. Han tried unsuccessfully to stifle a snicker. Then he said, "What'd you do, Jag?"

"Nothing."

"Seriously, son," Soontir said. "You must have done something, or said something. What was it?"

"Nothing," Jag insisted. "I've replayed everything in my mind, but there's nothing."

Han patted Jag's shoulder. "You may be right. In fact, if you had a full video and audio recording of the whole thing, your father and I would probably agree with you. But I also bet your mom and Leia would side with Jaina."

"He's right, you know," Soontir said.

Jag nodded, but he sure didn't look convinced. After a moment he met Han's gaze. "You don't think…" He sighed. "You don't think she could be freaking out again, do you?"

Han laughed. "Not a chance. If having a squad of ISS goons outside her room and guards following her every move hasn't freaked her out, nothing you did could have." Quickly he glanced to Soontir. "No offense."

Soontir shrugged. "They're not really my style, either."

Jag sighed again. "Well, I hope you're right."

Han wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Of course I am, kid."

Soontir resumed walking toward the turbolifts. "You sound rather confident."

Han tugged Jag along. "Why not? Come on, what are the odds I'd be wrong?"


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Legs drawn up to her chest, back nestled into a wall of pillows propped against the headboard, Jaina tried once more to drift into the calm mindset of simple meditation. After several minutes of fruitless effort, she admitted defeat and opened her eyes. Sleep had been a rare companion these last few years, and came only when ensconced safely in Jag's arms. Since she had conveniently eliminated that possibility, Jaina was counting on Jedi meditation techniques, which usually worked well enough, to rejuvenate her through the wee hours of the night. Unfortunately, she had found the necessary peace elusive.

Now, with dawn beckoning on the Maramere horizon, Jaina figured her unrest had to be a sign, her mind still focused in a battle-ready state for a reason. She just hadn't found the cause yet.

Something was amiss on Bolis Island. Yesterday's meeting with Wedge and Iella had left her certain of it. Her partners in investigation agreed, but they hadn't been able to put a finger on exactly what, either. The mysterious man Jaina had dropped in the hotel service alley – Luthor Korde, or so he claimed – held GAG credentials. He claimed to have been making a security sweep prior to the Chief of State's arrival when he had happened upon a body, and the next thing he remembered was being awakened by Wedge. When Wedge had played dumb on the presence of any body, though, Korde had surmised that he must have been jumped by the killer's accomplice.

Iella had been dubious of his authenticity, but despite the combined efforts of herself, Wedge, Tycho and Winter, everything about Korde had checked out. With no suspicions validated, they had decided their only option was to release the man. Yet each of the veterans admitted a gut feeling that there was more to Korde's story than he was letting on. A body and a hunch wasn't much to go on, though, so Wedge and Jaina had agreed to keep the incident under wraps. And Wedge had promised to keep a vigilant watch over the man's next moves. Just in case.

At the same time, Jaina, free of the tempting distractions Jag offered, had kept her own vigil over the safety of her new family. She hadn't planned on sleeping; her Jedi perceptions had been attuned to the activity on the top floor of the hotel. Even now she sensed Jag, not asleep - he too had been restless for most of the night – but safe in a room shared with his brother.

With a little borrowed Solo luck and some divine intervention from the Force, Wedge would have this mystery resolved by tomorrow. He'd better, because Jaina really didn't need this hanging over her head. The prospect of walking down that aisle was terrifying enough.

A vibration from the nightstand snapped Jaina out of her sleep-deprived musings. She had kept her comlink nearby all night. It had been in her hand on multiple occasions when she had almost given in and summoned Jag back to their suite. Her heart pounded. Maybe Jag had caved first.

"Hello?"

"_Hey, kiddo. Your mom said you were up."_

"Oh. Hi, Dad."

"_The Hapan delegation has arrived early. Would you like to go with us to pick up Amelia?"_ Her parents had left Allana at the Jedi base for a few days when Jaina's hasty summons to Bolis Island had come.

"I'd love to. I'll meet you in the lobby in ten."

Scrambling off the bed, Jaina rushed over to the closet. Thankfully, Tycho had taken that dreadful arm away, but the memory of it propped against the closet wall would be indelibly etched in her mind. She scanned her clothes quickly for something discreet, quickly realizing that none of the dresses Syal had provided counted in that category. Instead she opted for the old standby, her Jedi robes.

By the time Jaina exited the lift downstairs, it was simple enough to disappear into the folds of her hood. Her parents were the only beings to take note of her as she drifted across the lobby. The pair quietly acknowledged her as they converged at the lobby doors, but said little until they were settled in a quiet corner of the hovercraft bound for the berthing station.

Jaina watched her father weave his fingers through her mother's. "You miss her."

Leia nodded. "We do."

Jaina smiled, then turned to stare out across the vast expanse of water. The sun peeked over the horizon, spitting rays of yellows and oranges into a vibrant pink backdrop. A new day was coming, another chance to start over. Allana was Jacen's chance; perhaps, on some different level, her parents felt she was their chance as well. During her recovery at the Fel estate, Jaina had come to terms with her part in Jacen's fall. While she knew the guilt would follow her to the grave, Jaina had been able to forgive herself – and more importantly Jacen. She hoped her parents would find that peace too.

Until then, if Allana carried their hopes and dreams, if she provided them with a positive reminder of the good in Jacen, then Jaina was even more grateful for her twin's final act.

Once they docked at the berthing station, Jaina followed her parents through the hangar. She noted the flurry of activity, mostly delivery vessels and relatively few passenger debarkations, and the enormity of the wedding struck her right in the gut. All these deliveries were in anticipation of and preparation for her impending nuptials to Jag. Maybe they should have eloped…

"Hey, space cadet. This way."

Jaina's feet faltered as her father's voice called from somewhere to her left. She glanced over her shoulder and found him beckoning to her to follow. She made sure she had in fact been walking toward the _Falcon_, then turned back to her father. Her parents had continued on, leaving Jaina to jog over to catch them.

"We're not taking the _Falcon_?"

"The forward port repulsor's been acting up again," Han said.

"Luke offered the _Shadow_," Leia added.

Jaina staggered to a stop, her eyes drifting upward to take in the sight of Mara's ship. Jaina missed her former master dearly. While she had traveled through the many stages of grief in mourning Jacen's fall, Jaina had never had time to make sense of Mara's sudden death. The beautiful yet deadly ship served as a sharp reminder of that loss. As she gazed upon it, vivid memories of Jaina's apprenticeship came racing back. Mara had been a strict taskmaster, but it had been done purely out of love. Jaina owed her life to Mara as much as anybody else. Yet right now Jaina only felt a hollow ache for the woman who would not be standing at her side tomorrow.

A shrill whistle snapped Jaina from her ruminations. Heeding her father's summons, she trotted up the boarding ramp. Her parents waited at the top. Leia offered Jaina a brief brush of support in their bond. With a simple gesture, her father indicated she should lead the way to the cockpit.

"We thought you'd like to fly," he said.

Jaina blinked back tears. "Yes. I would."

Entering the cockpit, Jaina stared at the pilot's seat and recalled the hundreds of times she had hurried ahead of her master to take that seat – only to be unceremoniously dumped into the co-pilot's seat. The corner of Jaina's mouth curled upward as she considered her options now. Knowing Mara, she would find a way to enforce her will from the afterlife. Jaina settled into the co-pilot's seat.

Her parents took the two rear seats, and in short order Jaina had the _Shadow_ screaming toward space. Han handled communications with ground control and then, as they left the atmosphere, the Hapan fleet. As the distance from the planet grew, the pinpoints of light that indicated space traffic expanded to a dizzying array of ships. Just from sight alone, she recognized fleets from the Alliance, the Empire, Mon Cal, Corellia, and a dozen other planetary systems. She eyed the tactical display to locate the whereabouts of the Hapan fleet that had just arrived in system, then guided the _Shadow_ in a slow, banking curve in that direction.

After a few exchanges with the Battle Dragon's comms officer, Han pointed across Jaina's shoulder toward the designated hangar. As the _Shadow_ slipped inside, she noted a gleaming shuttle adorned with the Hapan royal crest and a large contingent of guards.

"The Queen's hangar."

"We're family," Leia noted.

"Not officially." Jaina eased the ship down the last few meters for a textbook landing. At least she hadn't lost her flying chops from a few months off.

Leia had already unbelted. Rising, she placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "It's what Tenel Ka feels that matters."

"I know." Jaina glanced back over her shoulder. "You two, go ahead. I'll finish the shut down."

Alone in the cockpit, Jaina used the extra time to shore up her composure. At home with the Fels, she had been sheltered from all but the most pressing issues. Her return to health had been uneventful; the isolation a blessing. Her emotional healing had been more of a struggle, but even her breakdown following a conversation with Soontir had only been about sorting through her pain over losing Jacen. Now, every minute there seemed to be a new emotional landmine she needed to dodge. She had known intellectually this would happen, but dealing with each one in turn was proving a struggle.

Almost as an answer to her concerns, a warm sensation brushed passed Jaina, a soft rustle in the hair by her shoulder. She had no doubt the source of the encouraging emotions. She turned and smiled at the empty seat next to her. "Wish me luck."

There was no answer; not that Jaina had expected one. Force ghosts were the stuff of legend, and Jaina knew such a powerful draw on the Force would come for a better reason than her silly fear of facing reality. Still, Mara's presence filled the cockpit in that same overpowering way it had when she had lived. "Miss you."

Rising, Jaina focused on the immediate positives of this moment. Walking down the boarding ramp, she reminded herself that she would be blessed with seeing her niece again…

Jaina's heart stopped beating momentarily. The sight of the button-nosed, brown-haired toddler floored her. _Oh, Jace, you did this part so right._ Allana had already shared her greetings with her adoptive parents and her pensive gaze had been watching the ramp in anticipation. They had been introduced on the _Healing Seas_, but that had been while Jaina hovered in a bactamist. Shortly thereafter she had been swept off to the Unknown Regions.

Watching Allana trot across the hangar floor, Jaina realized she too was just as eager for a true welcome. She bent down and scooped the little girl into her arms. Her legs almost buckled, not from the weight, but from the overwhelming sense of happiness that fired across every one of Jaina's nerves. She had no idea something as simple as a touch, an embrace, could elicit such an emotional overload. It took a few seconds for her equilibrium to return, and only then did she realize the joy emanated from the spot where she carefully guarded her twin bond.

Allana pushed back in Jaina's arms, her tiny hand pressed to Jaina's heart. "I feel him."

This time the tears could not be blinked away. "I know, sweetheart."

"Don't cry." Allana wiped a tear from Jaina's cheek. "Be happy we're sisters."

"Oh, I am. I promise." She settled the child back to the floor, kneeling before her. "I have an important question for my new sister."

"Yes." Allana's eyes widened in anticipation.

"Will you be in my wedding?"

"Uh…"

"I think Lady Solo has bestowed upon you a great honor." Tenel Ka walked up between the pair.

"Your Majesty." Jaina rose and bowed. Allana did the same beside her, and Jaina's heart nearly broke. This little girl couldn't even acknowledge her own mother. Worse, had to treat her like a stranger.

If Tenel Ka's suffered each time she had to deny her own child, she gave no indication. In fact, she smiled warmly down at Jaina. "Please, my friend, let us dispense with the formalities. It is I who will attend to you these next two days."

"Oh," Jaina beamed. "So you accept?"

"I was humbled by your request to be your attendant in tomorrow's wedding." Finally, Tenel Ka acknowledged her daughter with more than an aloof aside from the Queen of Hapes. "You still have not answered my friend's question, young lady."

Allana's eyes twinkled, so like Jacen had when he shared a secret with Jaina in their youth. Jaina felt a stab of remorse, then a second jolt when she realized her friend must have recognized that twinkle, too. The child appeared oblivious to their shared pain as a gracious smile formed on her lips. "I think that would be very nice."

Jaina bent over so her words could be spoken softly. "Don't worry. My friend Tenel Ka will be with you every step of the way."

"That," the child said, grinning, "would be very, very nice."

"Shall we discuss specifics on the way down to the planet?" Tenel Ka asked.

"Uh…" Jaina hesitated. "I suppose I can take the royal transport back with you."

"I was thinking we would ride down with you in the _Shadow_."

Only then did Jaina realize the Queen was not surrounded by her usual retinue. The elite Hapan guard stood some distance away, near the royal transport, where Jedi younglings were being herded up its ramp. "What? You don't want to ride with the Woodoos? I trained them well during my time on Ossus, you know."

Tenel Ka frowned. "My ship may never recover from a mere two days of Jedi younglings aboard. Wait until you hear what two Rontos did in the mess hall."

Allana tried to stifle a giggle and ended up laughing out loud.

Jaina smiled at the melodic sound, but something else had already drawn her attention away. "The _Shadow_ it is, then. Why don't you two head up on board? I'll be right behind you."

Tenel Ka extended her hand, and her daughter accepted it eagerly. Together they walked up the boarding ramp. Jaina's feet had another priority altogether. Figuring it was undignified to pounce on a Jedi Master, she opted for a low-key hug.

"It's good to see you," she whispered into the mane of long hair that cascaded over the powerful shoulder where she rested her head.

"You, too."

Released from the embrace, she stepped back to grin up at a pair of green eyes that had watched over her during some of the darkest times of her life. If not for this man, Jaina might have suffered the same fate as her twin. "What's with the hair, Kyp?"

"You don't like it? I think it's dashing. Gives me an air of Jedi-on-the-lam."

"It's even worse than Jag's beard." She slugged him on the upper arm, then sighed. "I'm glad you came."

"Unfortunately, this may be as far as I go. Tenel Ka has been kind enough to shield me from Daala's subpoena. I won't go down if there's going to be trouble for you."

"Funny thing, that." Jaina draped her arm through Kyp's. "Did you know that Maramere is in the process of negotiating their transfer into the Empire?"

"No…" For a Jedi trained in concealing his emotional state, Kyp resonated shock.

"Don't worry, very few do." Jaina started walking; by default of her armlock, Kyp followed. "My future father-in-law – you know, the Grand Moff? – wanted to be sure you knew that you were welcome on Remnant soil. _And_… he has asked that at the first opportunity, you and I meet with him to discuss some possibilities for your future."

"Really?" Kyp drew to a stop at the base of the _Shadow_'s ramp.

Jaina tugged. "Come on. I promise it'll be fine."

"Oh, I'm not worried about dodging Daala. It's just…"

"What?"

"Old habits." He eyed the _Shadow_. "Somehow I don't think she would pass up the opportunity to give me another tongue-lashing, even from the great beyond, for setting foot on her ship."

"Yeah, I miss her too."

Together they climbed the ramp, then at the top dodged a scampering toddler squealing in delight. Han followed close behind; he proffered a lop-sided grin at the Jedi pair before hurrying after Allana. "Hey! Come back here!"

"Ghosts seem to run the halls of this ship," Kyp said quietly.

Jaina glanced over, her eyebrow arched. "You know."

He tipped his head in a silent answer, waiting for the ramp to close behind them. "You forget I knew all of you as children. I didn't need the Force to tell me."

"Does –"

"The queen and I have discussed it, yes." Kyp folded his arms into the opposing sleeves of his Jedi robe. "I got the impression Tenel Ka was thankful to have someone to share her burden with. But she's not an easy one to read."

"Kyp Durron," Jaina said with smile, moving toward the cockpit, "you may just be turning into a fine, upstanding citizen."

"Don't say that. You'll ruin my carefully cultivated notoriety."

This time Jaina took the pilot's seat, knowing Mara would have preferred her to Kyp any day of the week. She started the pre-flight procedure. "You'll come to the rehearsal dinner. Hopefully we can catch Soontir for a few there."

"Shouldn't it be _Dad_ to you?"

"Not quite yet." Jaina yawned.

"You sure you're ready for this?"

She slapped the button to release the magclamps. "What? Is everyone really expecting me to bolt?"

Pursing his lips, Kyp fiddled with a button on the co-pilot's yoke.

"People are wagering on it, aren't they?"

"No. Of course not."

"Liar." Jaina rubbed a hand over her face. "Yes, last time I ran, but –"

"Is this lecture going to be for my benefit, Jaina Solo, or yours?"

She exhaled in a huff before easing the ship from the hangar. They travelled in silence until the _Shadow_ cleared the fleet. The intraship comm buzzed overhead.

"_Hey, Captain. Do you think we have time to just hang out up here?"_

Jaina verified the time on the ship's chrono. Still before 0700. If they spent a half hour or so up here, that would leave plenty of time for her to make breakfast with Jag's family. And she relished the idea of spending more time with her niece.

"Sure."

"I'd say head out that way," Kyp said, pointing. "Looks pretty clear."

It took only a few short minutes to find a suitably quiet area of Maramere space. After setting the autopilot, Jaina and Kyp made their way to the living area. At the table sat her father, scrutinizing the shine on his beloved Deathhammer. Her mother moved about the galley, preparing a snack. Tenel Ka sat on the crashcouch, which lined the far wall, with her daughter sprawled across her lap.

"Pop, can you read me a story?"

Han's attention stayed fixed on the weapon. "Why don't you ask Kyp to read you a story?"

Allana frowned. "I want you to."

Tenel Ka ruffled the girl's brown hair. "I'm sure Master Durron –"

"No, he can't." Allana rolled to a sitting position. "We all fell asleep in his sightless training class."

Jaina stifled a chuckle; Kyp stiffened beside her.

"I am sure that was only because the room was dark for the exercise," Tenel Ka said.

"I wish," Kyp replied. "I'm afraid Allana is right. Another reader would be best. Children's stories aren't really my thing."

"Would you like me to read you the story?" Jaina offered.

Allana shook her head, climbing from the couch. "No, Mommy will. She'll read to both of us."

After rummaging through a satchel on the floor, Allana stood with a children's book in her hand. She climbed back up onto the couch, then summoned Jaina to the seat next to her. Tenel Ka took the book as Jaina nestled into a comfortable position next to her niece. Allana clutched her hand, smiling up at Jaina. "It's my daddy's favorite."

Jaina blinked. "_Baby Bantha Builds a Barn_?"

"Yes." Allana clapped her hands before wrapping herself around Jaina's arm.

As Tenel Ka began to read, Jaina recalled the happy memory from long ago, when she and Jacen had sat much the same way. It had been Jaina who had been wrapped into her brother's comforting strength as they listened to the familiar tale of Baby Bantha. There was no sadness in the recollection, just a wistful remembrance of happier times shared with family. These were the moments Jaina would cherish forever; this was what she had fought so hard to protect.

Enfolded in the serenity of this beautiful bond with her niece, Jaina lowered her head to rest softly on top of Allana's. In unison, they both sighed. Peace settled into Jaina's soul and she closed her eyes to revel in the wonderful sensation for as long as it lasted.

There was the sound of her dear friend Tenel Ka's voice as it recounted the children's tale. Also, the blossoming sensation in her twin bond. Her mother and her father. The protective auras of two former Masters – one dead, one alive. For a rare moment, Jaina felt safe and sheltered.

And finally Jaina knew sleep.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

One more time Jag looked down at his comlink. One more time he read the message from last night. One more time. Just to make sure he hadn't misread it any of the previous – what was it now? at least twenty – times. But no. He hadn't.

_Sorry about before. Just stressed. It's not you. Promise. _

_0830 right? I'll be there._

Except it was 0842, and she hadn't called or sent a message. Or shown up.

"Jag?" His mother. "Breakfast is ready."

He didn't feel like eating. He felt like throwing up. Or just running up to Jaina's – their! – room and pounding on the door until she agreed to talk to him. Refusing to leave until she told him everything. Never letting her out of his sight until they were good and married.

He blew out a sharp sigh, then whispered to himself, "You're being irrational."

_You think? _He could practically hear his own brain laughing at him. But it wasn't his brain in control right now. It was his heart.

_It can't be happening again. I won't let it._

Somehow he compelled his hand to slip the comlink into his pocket. Ordered his feet to carry him into the spacious sitting room in his parents' suite. Commanded his legs to deposit his backside in the chair. And forced himself to pretend nothing was wrong.

As if the chair next to him wasn't empty.

Beginning to help himself to the array of hot and cold foods spread out in the middle of the table, he heard himself say, "It smells good."

"Aysht oud oo," said his brother.

"Pig," his sister said under her breath.

Cem swallowed, then gave a chagrined tip of the head to the table. "Sorry."

Soontir feigned inattention. "So Jagged, the rehearsal isn't until late this afternoon. What were you planning to do in the meantime?"

"Honestly," he said, and meant it, "I hadn't really thought about it." There hadn't been any plan except to spend time with Jaina. Now that plan apparently had changed.

For once in his life, Jag didn't have a Plan B.

Except the most immediate one: to eat. So he shoveled some more food onto his plate.

His father raised a brow at the quantity involved, but he said, "Excellent."

"Oh?" Syal paused, a forkful of steaming eggs held in midair. "And why is that, dear?"

"Because we need a day off. All of us."

"From what?" asked Wyn. "Didn't you go repulsorsurfing yesterday?"

Soontir narrowed his eyes. "I also held lengthy meetings with the Galactic Alliance Chief of State and Grand Master Skywalker. Separately, naturally. And poor Jagged here had the even more chilling experience of having to argue with a legal droid."

Syal grinned. "And I thought dealing with Raul was bad."

"Next time we'll trade, then," said Soontir. "In any event, there will be no such nonsense today. Relaxation is the rule of the day until the festivities resume. Grand Moff's orders."

"The rest of you can enjoy it," Cem said. "But there are too many dangers in play right now. I'll take my day off once this is all over."

Syal leaned forward in her chair. "Cem…"

"Your mother's right," Soontir said, wagging a fork in his general direction. "I'm sure your comrades at the ISS can handle the situation for a few hours."

"Maybe." Cem set his fork down on the table. "But I still don't think it's a good idea. Assassins don't take days off."

Wyn chuckled. "This is Bolis Island, not Bastion. How many assassins do you really think are hanging around here?"

Cem frowned. "It only takes one."

"Nevertheless," Soontir said, once again brandishing the fork like a king's scepter, "you will be joining us on our half-day of leisure. Or do I have to make that an _official _order."

"Sir," Cem replied, snapping a crisp salute, "that won't be necessary."

"Very good."

Jag, who had been content to eat in silence and watch the others bicker, now felt all eyes at the table focus on him. "What?"

"You do realize," Cem said, "that this directive is primarily targeted at _you_."

Jag swallowed his mouthful of fruit, then said, "Yes."

Cem shook his head. "Admit it, Jag, you could use the time off. If you get any more uptight, your spine will snap right out of your back from all that tension."

"Nice mental image," Wyn muttered. "Thank you."

"Any time." Cem held Jag's gaze. "Seriously, little brother. You need a massage or something."

"Not from you." It was so reflexive, the words left his mouth before Jag even had a chance to stop them. Everyone else laughed, and despite himself Jag laughed too.

Their mother gave a sly grin. "No offense, Cem, but I'm fairly confident Jaina is a much preferable alternative."

Cem grinned. "I sure hope so."

Wyn glanced at Jag. "Where is she, anyway?"

It took all of his willpower for Jag to hold his composure. "I… don't know."

"Probably asleep," Wyn said. "That's where I'd be if I were her."

"Oh?" Their father arched a brow. "You would rather be lost in slumber than partaking in this scrumptious feast and scintillating conversation?"

"Yes."

Syal let slip a quiet giggle. "At least you're honest."

"Our daughter's insolent lethargy aside," Soontir said, holding his wife's gaze, "I'm sure Jaina has a good reason for missing out on this charming experience."

"Agreed," Syal said, looking pointedly at Jag.

He tried to smile. "I'll let you know what it was when I find out."

"You'd better," Cem said, thumping down his tumbler of juice as he returned it to the table with a tone that carried an unspoken _Or else_.

"Now, son," Soontir said, "this is hardly a matter worthy of a rigorous investigation."

Jag swallowed another bite of fruit. Actually, that wouldn't be a bad idea. At least then he'd have some answers, and wouldn't have to worry so much. But aloud he said, "That's right. Besides, you wouldn't want to suffer the consequences of Jaina finding out you secretly investigated her."

Cem chuckled. "Point."

Wyn grinned. "You know that from personal experience, Jag?"

They all laughed, including him. Even though it was silly, and there was no reason for it, he felt a flush rising to his face. Truthfully, he replied, "No."

"Good," his mother said.

Jag had to agree. He didn't need actual experience to know how Jaina would react. He could summarize it in one word: Badly. Even better in two words: _Really _badly. Experience was unnecessary when imagination was frightening enough by itself. Which was probably exactly the deterrence Jaina was counting on. She could be devious that way.

"Absolutely," he said, and gave his mother a little smile.

They ate for a few more minutes, interspersed with idle thoughts about the various alternatives for relaxation at the resort over the next several hours. When Cem finally cleared his plate – he was the last to finish, as always – Soontir pushed back his chair and sat forward to the edge.

"Well," he said, motioning to the wait staff who had huddled inconspicuously in a corner throughout the meal, "that was delicious, but please take it away before I am tempted to eat any more. Cem, inform ISS of your unavailability until we head for the rehearsal. Wyn, monitor your brother and make sure he does it. Jag, you're in charge of choosing our activity."

Rising from the table, they all nodded. Jag wandered out of the sitting room in the direction of sunroom, bordered on three sides by floor-to-ceiling windows. The sky was clear and bright, and sunlight streamed into the room. How could it not raise his spirits?

Still, as much as he tried to focus on his assigned task, Jag found his thoughts constantly yanked back to Jaina. Absentmindedly, he pinged her comlink, and heard only the dull tone indicating no response. After a few minutes he just gave up and simply stood there, gazing out over the brilliant Maramere seas. It wasn't long before he heard someone come up behind him.

"Get over yourself," Wyn said.

He blinked. Then took a long, slow breath. Then turned around and looked at her. "What?"

Her gaze wasn't harsh, but mischievous. "I said, get over yourself."

Jag scowled. "Very supportive of you. Thanks."

Wyn put a hand on his arm. "You're worried that Jaina's flipped out again."

Momentarily he closed his eyes, and nodded once.

When he opened them again, Wyn squeezed his arm reassuringly. "Well, you're worried for nothing."

"You can't know that."

Patting his arm before she took back her hand, she smiled. "Actually, I can."

"How?"

"Because I'm a woman, and I know these things."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "I imagine you realize that's not particularly helpful."

"Jag, her wedding is one of the things a girl looks forward to her whole life." Wyn's face was blissful, almost dreamy. "She dreams about it. Imagines it. Plans every little detail a hundred different ways a hundred times over. Every girl does – even Jaina."

He had to admit, despite all the time she spent flying and fixing things, Jaina wasn't above flights of fancy. "All right. And?"

"And now it's here. Not just any wedding, either. The ultimate fairy tale." For just a moment, Wyn looked profoundly jealous. Then it passed, and she met Jag's eyes again. "So yes, brother, I have absolutely no doubt Jaina is well and truly flipped out right now."

He raised a brow. "But?"

"_But_…" She balled a fist and gently slugged him in the arm. "But I'm also absolutely certain it has nothing to do with you. At all."

Jag held his breath for just a second, then let it out. "For once, I hope you're right."

Wyn's eyes narrowed, and she hefted the fist again. "Jag…"

"Okay, okay," he said, holding up his palms defensively. "You're right. I know you're right."

In a flash she stepped up to him and pulled him into an embrace. "Good."

He hugged her back. "Thanks."

She pulled back and nodded. Then she turned to walk back to the sitting room. "You're welcome."

He watched her go, then gazed back out over the ocean once more. _Get over yourself_. It was good advice; he knew that. But it was easier said than done.

He took a deep breath. On reflection, he didn't need to be at Jaina's side every moment until the ceremony. In truth, he didn't even need to see her. Just a quick call, or a short message; that would be enough. Just enough – something, anything – to let him know she loved him, and couldn't wait for tomorrow. Yes, just that would be enough.

Jag sighed. No, Wyn was right. He already knew those things. Despite the fear in his heart, he knew they'd be married tomorrow. Deep down, beneath the fear, he didn't doubt Jaina at all. He was –

The sharp, abrupt warble of the comlink broke his reverie with such startling intrusiveness his grip slipped, sending the device clattering to the floor. He bent to retrieve it, only to watch it seemingly scatter away from his fingers like a small rodent on the run. He dove, lunging with both hands, and captured the traitorous instrument.

He clicked it on. "Jaina?"

"Hey. Yeah."

"Are you –"

"What ti–" She paused, and Jag was pretty sure the silence was a poorly concealed yawn. "What time is it? Did I miss breakfast?"

"You did," he said. "But don't worry about it. Everything's all right."


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Seated in a thick plush chair in the second-floor atrium, Wedge Antilles leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. Propping his datapad against his upraised knee, he cut a portrait of an aging general leisurely catching up on the day's news on the Holonet.

In reality, he kept his gaze focused on the two sets of doors to either side of the atrium. One was the Grand Hotel's casual restaurant. The other was a small commissary selling all manner of drinks, snacks, and prepackaged meals.

He didn't know the current location of the mysterious GAG agent Jaina Solo had encountered – and knocked unconscious – yesterday. Nor did he know where this Luthor Korde fellow – if that was his real name – would turn up next. But he did know the exorbitant price of room service in the Grand Hotel, and the ridiculously high prices in all of the other restaurants. He also surmised – reasonably enough, he thought – that Mystery Man Korde was unlikely to be operating on a massive budget. Nor did the man have the look of a career soldier, one who would bring his own military rations and eat them in the solitude of his room. Therefore, Wedge had concluded, if the man planned to eat, he was probably going to choose one of these two establishments to do so.

Wedge did not have the power of the Force, but he did have the power of logic.

Suddenly his comlink trilled, snapping Wedge out of his reverie. He reached down to his belt and retrieved the device, then held it up to read the message. A numeric code. Immediately he tapped in the affirmative code in reply as he rose from his chair. Slapping the comlink back to his belt, he strode off toward the rendezvous point. He didn't know who he'd be meeting there – but whoever it was, they had news.

Briskly Wedge moved through the spacious, luxuriously decorated corridors of the Grand Hotel. Every now and then he tipped his head or raised a quick wave to a familiar face or a hotel staffer, but for the most part the hallways were surprisingly sparse of beings. He even had an entire turbolift car all to himself. Which was just as well, because Wedge didn't have time for delays like squeezing past bloated entourages or idle banter with casual acquaintances.

Within minutes he reached his destination: a wide veranda spreading out from the foyer on the twelfth floor. His boots clipped the stone tiles as he marched to the edge and took up position at the third potted tree along the northern edge of the balustrade.

Breeze ruffling his hair, Wedge gazed out over the ocean – and waited.

He didn't have to wait long.

Behind him came the quick clip of small feet bearing a petite form. He turned to see his daughter Myri approaching him – not that she really much resembled the usual Myri. All this skullduggery had given her an excuse to return to the bad habits she'd picked up while posing as a card dealer aboard the _Errant Venture_. Not only was she changing her hair color and fake tattoos every day, but he was pretty sure her hair had been a different hue earlier this morning.

With a few more quick strides she reached him. "Hey, Dad."

He grinned. "You're getting pretty good at this incognito thing."

She looked him up and down. "Yours still needs some work."

"That's because I'm not actually trying to hide my identity."

"Sure. If you say so."

He chuckled. She was taking more after her mother every year. "So, what did you find?"

"Answers, I think." Myri offered up a small, handheld datapad. "This is our guy, right?"

Wedge toggled through the seven images. The resolution was poor, especially on the zoomed-in ones, but it was the best they could have expected from the tiny spycam. And all that really mattered was that they were clear enough to show him what he needed to know. "That's him, all right. I assume I'm correct about who I think that is he's talking to?"

Myri nodded. "Daala. I got a much better look with the mini-'nocs."

"Well," he said, running a hand along his chin, "that sure makes things a lot more interesting."

"I thought so, too. And we just lucked out on the timing. If I'd made him ten minutes later, the meeting would have already been over and we'd have no idea about this."

"How long were they talking?"

"Not long." Myri furrowed her brow. "No more than fifteen to twenty seconds."

"Long enough to give him orders though."

Frowning, Wedge handed back the datapad, then looked out over the smooth sea.

She stepped up beside him at the balustrade. "Not good, huh?"

"No." He took a slow breath. "So where is he now?"

"Uh…" Myri looked up at him, a pained, embarrassed expression on her face. "I don't know. I stopped watching him when I came to show this to you."

He raised a brow. It wasn't like her to make such a rookie mistake.

"Dad!" Myri broke into a wide grin, and laughed aloud. "You really are getting gullible in your old age."

Wedge laughed too. No, getting suckered by friends and family wasn't exactly a new development. "Well played, sweetheart. Now, are you going to tell me who really _is_ watching Mister Korde's Mystery Adventure?"

"Mom."

"Perfect." No way would Iella lose track of this guy. Still, there was no reason to take any chances. "You found him, you should keep on him. Now that we know who he's working for, I'll retask Syal to help me."

"Good idea. Mom and I can handle the surveillance."

"I'd better let you get to that, then." Wedge reached out and gave her a fatherly squeeze on the shoulder. "Great work, honey."

Myri smiled. "Thanks, Dad."

Watching her hurry back into the foyer, he retrieved his comlink and sent a simple numeric code to his older daughter. Less than a minute later he received the affirmative code in response. He waited another two minutes just to be sure Myri had time to get clear, then headed back toward the turbolifts himself.

Syal was already there when he arrived at the unremarkable intersection of two long corridors in the guest-rooms wing of the twenty-third floor. In a relaxed pose, she stood with one shoulder leaned against the wall, as if slightly bored while waiting for an overdue companion. Which was probably less acting and more real than Wedge cared to admit.

He stopped next to her and took up a similar pose. You could never be too careful, not when a random passerby – or a randomly patrolling security guard – might happen by at any moment. He kept his voice quiet, but not hushed. "We've located him."

Her brow rose, just a little. "Good."

"It appears he's working for Daala."

This time her brow leapt up considerably. "Not good."

"My sentiments exactly." He glanced quickly around them. "Myri and your mother will keep him under observation, but we can't count on that revealing what he's up to. Now that we have a lead, you and I are going to work other angles and see if we can figure out more about this guy."

She nodded. "How should we start?"

"I was thinking we could –"

"Wedge?" A woman's voice carried down the corridor. "Is that you?"

He scowled. Maybe he _did_ need to work harder at maintaining anonymity. When he turned toward the sound of the voice, though, he realized he wouldn't have stood much of a chance regardless. Fooling his sister was nearly an impossible task.

He waved, and she headed toward them at a quicker pace. Before she could get to them, he glanced to his daughter – who gave him a wink and a fleeting, knowing upward curl of her mouth. She understood. Good.

"If I didn't know better, Wedge," the elder Syal said, reaching out to clasp his hands, "I'd think you were avoiding me."

"Not at all," he said, leaning in to peck a quick kiss on her cheek. "I've just been… busy."

She raised a brow. "You're on vacation at a grand resort awaiting a wedding tomorrow. And not one of your daughters'. How busy could you possibly be?"

Wedge tried not to laugh. "You'd be amazed. Things just keep popping up."

"I'm sure." She smiled knowingly, just like her niece's a moment before. She didn't believe him for a second, but she knew better than to ask. "But you can't hide from me forever, little brother. I'll get a lunch out of you yet."

"Soon," he replied, and meant it. "Before we all leave Bolis Island. I promise."

"Excellent." His sister sighed theatrically, an excessively melancholy performance right out of one of her old holodramas. "Well, I'd best keep moving. I've agreed to sit for an interview with one of our esteemed Holonet journalists a few suites down."

Wedge affected a mock hurt expression. "They never ask to interview me."

His daughter grinned broadly. "That's because you're boring."

"Thanks, dear."

"Any time, Dad."

He chuckled, then indicated the hallway. "Come on," he said to his sister. "We'll walk you there."

The three of them ambled their way to the designated suite. As they approached, Wedge could see the suite's main door was opened in expectation of the imminent arrival. Catching a glimpse of his daughter at his side, a truly mischievous thought sprang to life in the back of his mind.

He leaned over to his sister. "Out of curiosity… Are they addressing you by Fel? Or Starflare?"

She peered at him quizzically. "Just Syal Antilles, actually. Why?"

Without prompting, his daughter snickered. "Dad," she said, "you're not really thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?"

He grinned at her. "I'm afraid so."

The elder Syal narrowed her eyes. "What are you two up to?"

"Mayhem and depravity," Wedge replied. Holding up his sister by the elbow, he waved his daughter through the open door. "You take it from here, kiddo."

"Wedge…"

"Trust me, it's fine." He stepped in front of his sister so she couldn't follow the younger Syal into the room. "How is Jag holding up? He's not too nervous, is he?"

She smiled. "Not about marrying Jaina. He never stopped wanting this."

"Good."

"_But_," she continued, "he's been rather out of sorts since yesterday afternoon. It seems Jaina has been acting rather strangely." She narrowed her eyes. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you, Wedge?"

"Uh…" He didn't want to lie. In fact, not only would telling the truth be easier on his conscience, but it would no doubt get him some Fel assistance in figuring out this whole mess. But that was exactly why he couldn't tell her. He just had a feeling the Empire wouldn't be able to keep this quiet and under wraps – the way it needed to be handled if they had any chance at cracking the case before tomorrow. "No. Not really, no."

"Wedge…" Now her voice carried that distinctively rising pitch of maternal irritation that made every little boy – and grown man – want to run and hide.

"I'm sure it's –"

"How disappointing." His daughter's words were barely distinguishable amid her giggling as she walked out of the journalists' suite and rejoined them in the corridor. "For a second there I really thought they might go through with that interview."

Wedge chuckled. "Oh?"

"It took me a minute to get them to understand that I really am Syal Antilles. Once they realized who I was, they didn't want to admit their mistake. They were just about to sit me down and start the interview when one of the producers finally got up the courage to tell me the person they really wanted to interview was the _other_ Syal Antilles, my aunt."

He laughed. Despite herself, his sister laughed too.

"Wedge," his sister said, "you are a very, very bad man."

"I know." He lowered his head in shame. "I'm terribly sorry."

"Liar." With a final shake of her head, the elder Syal swallowed her laughter and stood tall, every bit the Wynssa Starflare of old. "I'd better get inside. After all, we must give the people what they want."

His daughter hadn't defeated her own laughter yet, though. "Thanks, Dad. I needed that."

He wrapped his arm around her. "You're welcome."

She slipped her arm around his waist, and tugged him back down the hallway toward where they'd started. "All right. Time to get serious. Let's go figure out what we're up against."

"Yes," Wedge said. "Let's."


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven **

"Stop fiddling with your clothes."

"They're uncomfortable, Dad." Ben tugged at the collar of his shirt. "This cravat is itchy. I don't understand why we couldn't just wear our formal Jedi robes."

Looking right, then left, Luke tipped his head, indicating a quiet alcove along the resort's boardwalk. It was nearly sunset, and an ever-increasing number of guests strolled along the waterfront to take in the magnificent sight. Together, father and son slipped out of the public pathway. Luke settled onto the bench, and Ben followed his lead.

Upon sitting, Ben instantly rose to adjust his jacket. His father watched the whole thing, exuding that maddening Grand Master visage.

"Ben, we aren't wearing our Jedi robes because we're attending as Jaina's uncle and cousin."

"Who happen to also be, you know, Jedi."

For all his appearance of calm, Ben detected the subtle set to his father's mouth. "Yes, but I don't think Jaina needs that particular reminder today."

"But Jaina's a Jedi, too. More, she's the Sword of –"

Luke's upheld palm silenced the rest. "Yes, she is." He glanced down, studying the lightsaber clipped to his belt. Robes or not, the weapons were always with them. "I just get the feeling Jaina needs her uncle, and not the Jedi Grand Master, to celebrate with her. I'm not sure it's time for us to revisit that part of our relationship yet."

"Is she mad at you or something?"

"Mad? I don't think so. Disappointed? Probably. And if I were in her shoes, I'd probably feel the same way."

"You didn't do anything wrong. It was Jacen –"

"I'm not sure that's true." His father inhaled a long, slow breath. "Even before Jaina faced Caedus, I knew she would need guidance and support should she come out the other side. I knew this from experience, from my own failings with Jacen."

"Wait, wait. What happened to Jacen wasn't your fault."

"Oh, Jacen certainly made his own choices. But the more I think about it, the more I realize all the things I could have done differently, for him and for many of the other young Jedi I've trained. Jaina has always been the fighter, the doer, but also the one driven by her emotions. When she struggled with the dark side on Hapes, Kyp was there to guide her back, and afterward I came to see that her stumble was merely a blip. If Jaina had only a slight misstep, I guess I let myself become confident Jacen would be the same way, stay on the straight and true without extra guidance."

"It's understandable you would think that way. Jaina has always been a bit of a loose cannon."

"That's your former Master talking, son."

Ben's chin drew back, and he blinked. What he'd said was true, wasn't it? During the Killik crisis, Jaina had defied the Grand Master. Recently, she had faced court-martial for disobeying an order. Jacen's order, he reminded himself. And what about all the stories of the mayhem Jaina had created at the Jedi Academy…

Stories he had been told by Jacen.

"If you think about it," his father said, "I probably was considered a bit of a loose cannon back in the day myself. I'm sure General Dodonna was ready to bust me right out of the Rebel Alliance for turning off my targeting computer on the Death Star trench run, but it proved to be the right thing to do. Right because the Force told me so. Through the course of her life, your cousin has not always done what her superiors expected of her, but I think she's tried hard to do what the Force expects of her."

Ben mulled it over, trying to separate what he knew of Jaina personally from what he had been told over the years by others. A vivid memory blazed in his mind – a chaotic scene onboard the _Falcon_. The ailing freighter half torn apart, Ben bent on executing Jacen's orders. Even as Jacen rained deadly fire down on them. Through it all, Jaina had followed her father's instructions, trying to save the ship and them all. She had cautioned Ben to do the right thing…

"Jacen, he did what you expected and you rewarded him with favor, with me. And Jaina, she did what was right, even when it meant losing respect in the eyes of the people she loved."

"Yes." Luke rose and walked across the alcove so his back was to Ben. He sighed deeply. "She warned me."

"About?"

"Letting Jacen train you. At the time, I chalked it up to sibling rivalry."

Ben stood, and walked to his father's side. He placed a hand on his shoulder. "Jacen fooled everyone."

"Except his twin. What if I had listened? Would that have made a difference? Would your mother still be alive? Would Jaina not have had to strike down her own brother?"

"Dad." Ben tugged his father around, then grabbed both shoulders. "Stop this. Stop torturing yourself. Mom would throttle you for it, you know."

This brought a rueful smile to his father's lips. "And I would have loved every second of it."

He might have protested the unwelcome mental image that conjured, but Ben's attention had been diverted beyond his father, to a short distance away where a petite woman leaned over the boardwalk railing, staring out over the water.

"Jaina?" Ben hadn't seen his cousin since the medward on the _Healing Seas_, and at first he thought his eyes might be deceiving him. The woman, wearing a fashionable red dress, her curly locks of hair drawn back away from her face, appeared remarkably whole. No scars on her back where the dress scooped down, no signs of the disfiguring injury to her face.

The woman smiled, and he was certain his eyes had not deceived him. "Ben!"

Meeting in the middle of the boardwalk, they embraced. Jaina pulled back first. "You clean up nice, Ben Skywalker. Your mother would be proud."

"Uh, thanks." He fought a rising blush, unsuccessfully. "You look…um, beautiful."

"And a charmer on top of the looks." Jaina playfully rubbed Ben's hair. "The women of the galaxy won't know what hit them."

"Not if everyone keeps tossing my hair like a two-year-old, they won't," he muttered.

"Ben, don't grow up too fast," Jaina said, her smile distant and a little sad. Finally, she noticed his father waiting in the shadows of the alcove. "Uncle Luke."

She walked over to him and held out her arms. The hug certainly lacked the enthusiasm she had shared with Ben. Luke stepped back to a respectful distance. "Congratulations, Jaina. I was pleasantly surprised when your mother commed with the news."

Jaina chuckled. "You mean pleasantly _shocked_ like everyone else."

Luke shook his head. "You deserve this. Happiness."

"Thanks." Jaina smiled appreciatively, but Ben saw it again, that hint of sadness.

He wondered if things would ever be right for Jaina after all she had lost. Then some happy news for her popped into his mind. "You know, they were just talking about you at the last Coun– Ow! _Dad!_"

His father only smiled angelically, feigning innocence over the Force smack that had nearly cracked the back of Ben's skull. "I'm sure Jaina doesn't want to be bothered with boring Jedi business. She has much more exciting things ahead in her immediate future."

Rubbing the back of his head, Ben couldn't see how sharing the news that Jaina had been nominated for promotion to Master would impinge on her wedding plans, but the throbbing ache told him he'd better raise that issue with his father later. "You are the wise one as always."

"Things are well?" Jaina asked.

"Well enough, considering. Oh! Before I forget." Luke moved as if reaching for a pocket, but missed. Apparently he wasn't as used to these clothes as he led on. He tried again, digging into the outside pocket of his suit jacket. "I have something for you."

He withdrew a necklace, the ice jewels studded along its length sparkling in the rays of the setting sun, and held it out. Jaina stared, slackjawed. When she gathered herself, she tentatively stretched her fingers out to caress the necklace. Luke pushed his hand toward her.

"It's yours."

Jaina snatched her hand back, holding it across her chest. "I can't. It… It should stay with you. Or Ben."

"I'm not going to wear _that_," Ben said.

"Nor would I," Luke added. "Please, Jaina. Mara always meant for you to have it. The first time we came here…" Luke swallowed. "When Mara was going to stand with you, she brought it then. You were like the daughter she never had."

Blinking a lot, Jaina sniffed. "I don't know what to say."

Luke smiled. "You could say, 'I'll take it.'"

Holding out her hand, Jaina allowed Luke to place the necklace on her palm. Fingering the strand of ice jewels, she mouthed, "Thank you."

"You don't have to wear it tomorrow," Luke added. "We just wanted you to have it regardless."

"Of course I'll wear it tomorrow. It's perfect for my dress." She wiped the back of her hand under her left eye. "Kriff, there I go again."

"Girls are supposed to cry at weddings," Ben offered helpfully.

Despite the tears, Jaina flashed a trademark Solo half-grin. "Not enough to fill the Maramere ocean." She sniffed once, straightening her posture. The serene bearing of a Jedi washed across her face. "Okay. I'm better. I just hope I don't get used to the idea of being given these wonderful gifts. I did the same thing when Jag's mom gave me an amurzinth crystal for my new lightsaber and I nearly –"

"What happened to your old one?" Ben asked.

"It's gone."

"Gone?"

Jaina ignored Ben's question and looked to Luke instead. "I'm building a new one. I was having trouble with the emitter's redundant phase lock out wiring. Maybe some time I could have a look at Mara's?"

"Certainly." Luke smiled at Ben. "How about now?"

Snapping the lightsaber from his belt, Ben held it out to Jaina. "Here you go."

"Oh… I didn't expect." She wrapped her fingers around her former master's weapon and tipped her head. "She would have liked that you use her blade. Do you mind if I open it?"

"Nope. It's not like you're going to break it or something."

Ben watched as Jaina triggered the hidden mechanism only a few people knew about. The casing seal released, and Jaina peeled back the cover. Freeing the crystal from its housing, she pulled it out to reveal the inner workings of the weapon. Her careful scrutiny showed a true appreciation for the masterpiece his mother had created. Tracing the lines of wiring, Jaina mouthed some thoughts to herself, then suddenly looked up at Ben.

"Can you hold it for a second?"

"Uh, sure."

As Ben took back his halved hilt and the exposed crystal, Jaina drew up the skirt of her dress. Before he could turn away or shout his embarrassed protest, she had drawn out a lightsaber of her own. "Glad I brought this."

In a matter of seconds, Jaina had it opened and began comparing the two weapons. "Okay. I see it. I think I've got it now. Thanks, Ben."

Luke had watched Jaina scrutinize her handiwork without a word. "May I?"

"Oh." Jaina hesitated, then held out her lightsaber. "Sure."

Luke studied the interior only briefly. Ben thought his father was about to suggest something, but then he simply smiled appreciatively as he closed the hilt. With a flick of his thumb, Jaina's blade hummed to life. A few masterful twirls sent the silver blade humming in the early evening air.

"_Beskar_, right?"

Jaina nodded.

Double-handing the hilt, his father slashed a high-to-low blow to an imaginary foe, then held the pose in silent contemplation. "I like it. Smooth, lightweight. Well-balanced."

During the course of his inspection, the vibrant spectacle had drawn a crowd of onlookers from all along the boardwalk. Ben detected small spikes of alarm in the Force, but mostly genuine awe at the sight of the Jedi Grand Master putting on an impromptu demonstration. "Uh, Dad?"

Thrust back suddenly into reality, Luke straightened and closed down the blade. With a jaunty salute, he acknowledged the crowd. "Jedi business. Nothing to see here."

That seemed to allay any concern. As the visitors withdrew, one individual shoved between the rest. A man of average size in formal civilian attire, Ben might have mistaken him for a random guest in the dimming light – if not for the shocking white streak that shot up through his hairline. "Jag! Did Jaina perfect her new lightsaber alignment on your beard?"

Jag's severe, almost earnest expression, softened. His eyes, which had been trained on his bride-to-be, lost their hard lock. And he actually grinned. "She did. She claims the wayward bounty hunter look wasn't becoming of an Imperial officer."

"I did no such thing!" Jaina remarked in mock outrage. Stepping forward, she planted a tender kiss on his lips. "But I have no complaints."

She drew back, studying him. "You alright?"

"Yes." He nodded as if he were reassuring himself with his answer. "It was just the lightsaber…"

"We were comparing handiwork," Luke noted, passing the _beskar_ hilt back to Jaina.

"Why in the name of all that is holy are you carrying your lightsaber?" Jag asked her.

She shrugged. Luke chuckled. "Old habits die hard, Jag."

"Under the pillow, I can understand. But under that dress? In a secure resort, amid a few hundred of the sharpest tactical minds and strongest warriors in the galaxy?" Jag wrapped his arm around Jaina. "For once, it's time to let everyone else do the worrying, right?"

Ben's father pursed his lips, shaking his head. "Oh, I don't know. You can never predict when the vicious Wedding Demon will make its appearance."

"No fair," Jaina said, laughing. "As I recall, your wedding –"

"Was the happiest day of my life," Luke concluded.

"Uh huh. And this is just my little extra layer of security to ensure we have the exactly same end result." With a wink, Jaina hitched up her skirt and clipped the lightsaber back to her garter.

When she finished, Jag grabbed her by the shoulders. "Promise me I will not find that lightsaber under your wedding dress."

Jaina flashed a mischievous grin. "I promise something else will be missing."

"Too much information," Ben howled. Even his father was blushing. "Dad, perhaps we should leave the bride and groom to debate the wedding day attire all by their lonesome."

"Excellent idea." Luke threw his arm around Ben. "We'll see you at the rehearsal?"

Jaina and Jag, thoroughly engrossed in each other, offered a mutual, barely recognizable affirmation. The sad expression Ben had seen earlier was forgotten as his cousin leaned into her future husband. And as the pair locked lips in the dawning moonlight cast over the Maramere ocean, Ben felt for the first time in his life what he could only describe as pure bliss.

The sensation was fleeting, though, as another emotion pierced his young heart. Beside Ben, his father's step flagged, and just for a second his shoulders hunched. For a moment, Ben thought some rapid onslaught illness was about to double him in two.

"Dad, are you okay?"

"It just…" Luke inhaled a ragged breath. "I suddenly realized I will never feel that way again."


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

"My gracious, dahling, you're fidgeting like a womp rat in a wuicka pen."

"Would you like me to help you with a meditation exercise?"

"Would you like me to get you a drink?"

Inwardly, Jaina suppressed a flinch. Usually she reacted to this sort of patronizing with a witty retort or a sharp rejoinder. Except usually, this sort of patronizing _was _patronizing. This time, it wasn't. She deserved every word of it.

Since when did the concept of marrying Jag make her nervous?

Since she started putting on this dress for real, apparently.

Jaina took a slow breath, then turned to Raul. "Sorry," she said, and meant it. "I'll hold still." Then she looked over her shoulder at her mother and Syal. "No. Thank you, though. I'm fine."

Leia arched an eyebrow. "You don't seem fine."

Sometimes having a Jedi for a mother was a serious pain in the rear. "Well, I'll _be _fine." She moved as if to shrug, but didn't dare for fear of provoking another round of chastising from Raul. "Still not used to being the center of attention, I guess."

Syal winked. "Welcome to my world."

Jaina laughed. Yes, she knew exactly the kind of holostar she would have made. The kind who was notorious for rude remarks and hospitalizing holomag journalists. She could see the banner headline now: _Drunken Solo Does It Again; Rampage Video Up Next!_

"Almost… there," said Raul. He yanked something – Jaina wasn't quite sure what, but it felt like some form of torture device – and the corset lashed even tighter around her waist. She wouldn't have thought that was possible. But then it was just a few more tugs and pulls and tying off hidden cords, and Raul bounded out from behind her.

"Thay-ah!" he cried, holding his arms wide. "We are finished, dahling." He hurried forward again, guiding Jaina by the elbow to turn her to face the mirrors. "See, see. You must see it."

She did, and gasped. "It… It looks even better than the fitting."

"It had better, dahling, or – oh! No! I mustn't even think it." Was he actually crying?

Syal put a consoling hand on his shoulder. "It's beautiful, Raul, absolutely beautiful."

"Yes," said Leia, patting his shoulder from the other side. Was she crying too? "It truly is."

Jaina took a deep breath. Why were her knees trembling? "So, if it's all right, I'll leave the three of you to your sobfest and go take a walk around."

When Raul looked up at her with utter horror in his eyes, she hastily added, "Just here in the cathedral."

As soon Leia and Syal started to speak simultaneously, she cut them off with a raised hand and appended, "Just in the back corridor. No one will see me. _Especially _not Jag."

The three of them seemingly mollified, Jaina headed toward the door. "I'll be back in a few."

* * *

"Stop. Pacing."

Jag turned. "I'm not."

Cem raised a brow. "Pacing. Present participle construction of 'to pace.' Verb. To repeatedly walk the same stretch of ground with no apparent progress toward any identifiable destination. Often signifying a state of apprehension."

Their father unsuccessfully stifled a snort.

"Wonderful," Jag said. "Next time I need a protocol droid, I won't bother looking for Threepio."

"You can have him, if you want," said Han from his perch on a stool in the corner of the small room, a chaplain's office appropriated as a waiting area. "Consider it a wedding present."

"Let me think about," Jag replied, deadpan, "and I'll get back to you."

"Yeah, do that. Please."

Soontir ambled over and put a hand on Jag's shoulder. "What's gotten into you, son?"

"Nothing," Jag said, shaking his head a little more insistently than he intended. "I'm just ready to get this over with."

Cem laughed. "More like, after a couple days sharing my room, ready to get into Jaina's –"

"Shut it."

"– good graces."

Jag glared. "If you weren't my brother…"

"Hey," said Han. "Don't worry about it, kid. Feeling a little dread is perfectly normal."

"It's not dread," Jag said. "I just meant… I'm tired of waiting. I'm ready to get started."

His father chuckled, and slapped him on the back. "In that case, Jagged, I'm afraid you're doomed to your torment a bit longer."

"Not that long," Jag said, checking the chrono for the seven thousandth time. "It's only fifteen minutes."

Han chortled. "Uh, Jag? I hate to break it to you, but no wedding starts early. Not even a Fel wedding." He shot Soontir a glance. "No offense."

"None taken." Soontir put out a hand, and quite effectively prevented Jag from starting to walk again. Not that he was pacing, of course. "Han's right, you know. In fact, I would go so far as to say that no wedding starts on time."

"Oh," Jag muttered, "great."

"So…" Cem moved toward the door. "I'm gonna go make sure the cathedral hasn't, I don't know, imploded or something." He tossed Jag a salute. "See you out there, little brother."

Jag waved a farewell, then looked back to his father. "So you're really going to hold me captive here and make me wait, aren't you?"

"Yes," his father said, his expression not nearly as apologetic as Jag would have preferred. "I'm afraid so."

Atop the stool, Han drew out a hand from inside the jacket of his formal dress uniform. His palm held a small silver flask. "One last drink for our unmarried prisoner?"

* * *

Walking slowly, muffling her footfalls with the Force, Jaina passed beneath the archway and emerged onto a small corner balcony just short of the cathedral's soaring ceiling. Gazing across the chamber, she picked out the companion balcony on the opposite side. Yes, she could see why they would be the ideal locations to place a pair of trumpeters for ceremonies requiring numerous fanfares and voluntaries, just as the cathedral staffer had explained.

She gazed around the towering, spacious chamber. The stained-glass windows were intricate and cast brilliant rays all the way to the floor below. The sculptures were ornate, the paintings and tapestries luxurious. Certainly a cathedral befitting the extravagance of Bolis Island.

Jaina's eyes traveled down the walls to the seating area. Most of the guests for the ceremony had already arrived. On her side, she picked out Luke and Ben, the three Calrissians, the four Horns, Tycho and Winter, and Tahiri. On the other, she noticed several Chiss – was that Shawnkyr? – and a few of the Wampas, as well as Wedge, Iella, and Syal.

But where was Myri?

And why was Wedge talking into his comlink?

He leaned over to whisper to Iella, then stood and began to walk back up the aisle toward the rear doors. Across the room, Tycho was also in motion. Then Myri emerged from an alcove and began gesturing at her father.

None of them looked confident. Not quite panicked, but not exactly calm, either.

The Force tugged at her mind, and Jaina's eyes returned to the opposite balcony. It was empty, just as it had been before.

Until, a heartbeat later, she noticed a motion in the shadows.

Certainty gelled in her mind, and Jaina spun back to the archway. She hurried through – and jumped, clearing the entire slender stairwell to the first landing in a single plunge. She softened her impact with the Force, then turned down the long, narrow corridor leading across the cathedral to the balcony on the other side. She only made it a few strides, though, before a noise behind her caught her attention.

She stopped cold and looked back over her shoulder, fully expecting to see an adversary bounding up the stairwell from below. Instead she saw nothing.

The noise had been simply the rustling of the train of pink Alderaanian tulle billowing behind her.

"Idiot," she muttered, spinning back around and breaking into a run.

Powered by the Force, she reached the far end of the corridor in seconds. Pausing to catch her breath, Jaina realized that was an impossible prospect cinched into her corset. While she carefully tried to replenish her oxygen supply before becoming lightheaded, her danger sense blazed with murderous intent, but not directed at her. There was no time to lose, and that small balcony was no place for a fight.

So she raised a hand, stretched out her feelings… and yanked with the strength of twenty men.

Only one man flew down the stairs, crashed to the floor, and rolled twice until he collided hard into the wall. Despite the violence of the tumble, he never lost his grip on his rifle. A sniper rifle, complete with silencer and scope. He grunted, then rose to a knee, raising the rifle –

"Not a chance," Jaina spat, flicking out her hand.

The barrel of the rifle bent back at an awkward angle from the impact of the invisible wave, just before the rifle wrenched itself from his grasp and clattered away down the stairs behind him.

"You," she snarled.

Luthor Korde's only reply was a predatory grin. Undaunted, his hand flashed upward with a holdout blaster in his grip. He squeezed off a shot –

– and Jaina suddenly realized her lightsaber was good and useless in its thigh holster, ensconced beneath layer after layer of her –

"Kriff!" she cried, and lunged to the side with all her might to make sure the bolt would clear her shoulder with enough room to avoid a flash-burn.

Korde aimed again, but this time Jaina didn't go for his weapon. Instead she hit the back of his knees with a Force-smack that toppled him onto his backside with a loud thud. The holdout sprang from his hand and flew straight into her waiting palm.

It didn't have a stun setting.

"You've got to be kidding me," Jaina growled, and hurled it down the stairs.

"Made me miss my target." Korde came up again, this time with a long, nasty-looking knife. "But you'll do."

He charged.

Jaina shouted, "Not the dress!"

* * *

The hair on the back of his neck rose. An odd impatience made his fingers twitch. Ben tried to identify the source of the sensation, but couldn't. He glanced to his father. "Do you sense something?"

Eyes half-lidded, Luke nodded without looking over. "Jaina."

"How can you tell?"

Now Luke looked at Ben, a smirk on his face.

"Right," Ben said. "But it's not just that she's happy or anxious or whatever. It's something else, isn't it?"

Luke's eyes half-closed again, and after a moment he said, "I think so."

"So… should we go check on her?"

Suddenly Luke's eyes widened. Before he could even finish saying, "Yes, I think we should," Ben was already on his feet, moving toward the side of the vaulted chamber. They did their best to maintain a calm, collected Jedi pace so they wouldn't alarm anyone. When Corran Horn glanced over at them, brow raised, Ben made the universal gesture for _Father-Son 'Fresher Break_, and Corran laughed. After all, the resort buffet's selection of juices was nearly as plentiful as its selection of foodstuffs.

When they arrived in the corridor running alongside the chamber, Ben closed his eyes and stretched out his feelings in the Force, searching for Jaina. She seemed to be up ahead, near the front of the cathedral, right where she should be.

"I agree," Luke said. "Let's go. Quickly."

They broke into a run. Not powered by the Force, both because they weren't quite sure exactly where they were headed yet, and to avoid drawing too much attention from the other Jedi in the building. They only got a few more strides, though, before a sharp spike of emotion lanced through the Force. Jaina, loud and clear as an emergency klaxon, calling out for her mother's aid.

Ben glanced to his father, whose expression reflected the worry Ben felt. Without a word, never breaking stride, their right hands dropped to their respective hips in unison – and snapped back up holding ignited lightsabers.

* * *

Jagged Fel hated when his father was right. In fact, he hated the entire concept of being _wrong_, no matter who was involved.

But especially with his father. Not because he hated his father, or harbored any patricidal fantasies. Simply because, growing up, it had seemed that his father had _always _been right – and no one deserved to be that omniscient. His father was smart and wise and irrationally dedicated to the safety and well-being of his family. The kind of man Jag could only hope to be himself. But it was utterly maddening how often Soontir Fel was right about things.

Jag sighed. Yes, the chrono was now three minutes past the scheduled start time of the wedding ceremony. Just as his father had predicted.

"You're handling this rather well, Jagged," his father said. "The delay and all."

"Hey there, buddy," said Han. "Don't push your luck."

Jag could only laugh. He didn't feel like laughing; he felt like getting damn well married right about now. But he felt ludicrous for feeling like that, and his own ludicrousness was laughable. So he laughed. There was nothing else he could do.

Just then came a soft knock at the door, and a moment later his mother slipped inside the small room to join them. She smiled. "And here I was worried I'd find our groom in a sour mood."

"Oh, too bad," Han said, waving his hand in a flourish. "You just missed it."

Syal chuckled lightly, then extended her hand to her husband. "Come along now, 'Tir. It's time to take our places."

Jag stopped himself from saying, _About damn time_. Instead he said, "Oh, good."

"Yes, dear," his mother said. "Leia's just… finishing up something with Jaina. Once she has the bride in position, she'll be right along for the two of you."

With a smile and a wave, her husband on her arm, she whisked out of the room.

And Jag looked right at Han. "Finishing up _what_? Not in position yet?"

Han shrugged. "Your mother picks her words carefully, I'll give her that."

On reconsideration, perhaps Jag did hate his parents – both of them – after all. "They should have arrived here together."

"Yeah, well, what're you gonna do?" Han hopped down from the stool and walked over, putting a hand on Jag's shoulder. "It's all right, Jag. We'll be started before you know it."

"I just wish I knew what was going on."

Han laughed, loud and riotously. "Trust me, Jag, you're part of the Solo family now. You don't want to know. You really, _really _don't."

* * *

Jaina Solo hated retreating. In fact, she hated the entire _concept _of retreating.

Well, maybe that was an exaggeration. Admittedly there were times when retreat was the only strategically viable option, especially when it meant saving as many beings as possible to live and fight another day. But as a Jedi, Jaina had often been able to find ways to create alternative strategic options when other commanders would have had none. So while she hadn't hesitated to order retreats when they were necessary, they just hadn't ever been as necessary for her as they were for most people. Which meant she'd never really become accustomed to them the way she probably should have.

Yes, Jaina Solo well and truly hated retreating. Especially in situations she could easily handle herself, if only external factors weren't getting in the way.

There was no small irony – an irony not lost on Jaina for a second – in the fact that she now fled from a lone man with a single knife like the galaxy's biggest coward. And not for some noble cause or Jedi duty, either. No, she fled for the sole purpose of protecting a garment.

Oh yes. Jaina Solo ran not for her life, but to save her wedding dress.

If that objective didn't matter so much to her – and there was no way she was ever going to admit to anyone in the universe, even Jag, that she was fighting back tears at the thought of this dress getting ruined – she would have laughed. Because really, deep down, this whole situation was laughable. Not to mention her priorities.

But oddly enough, nothing had ever felt more right.

So Jaina ran. Fast enough to keep ahead of the madman, but not so fast she lost him. Because as much as she cared about her dress, she couldn't just leave an assassin at large. Especially not in the cathedral about to host her wedding.

She ran, trying desperately to concoct a way to retrieve her lightsaber from its holster, or to think up a surefire method for knocking the man unconscious for at least an hour without killing him, or to –

And just like that it was over, so quickly her brain couldn't process it in real-time. She saw a blur of motion, felt a burst of wind against her cheeks, heard a thrum and a whack and a thud.

The next thing she knew, she turned around to see Luthor Korde prone, face-down against the stone floor, Luke Skywalker's boot between his shoulder blades, the point of Ben Skywalker's lightsaber leveled right at his throat.

She blinked. "Uh…"

And then the chimes began to ring. Great big enormous bells, sounding the call for everyone to take their seats and positions for the ceremony. Gigantic metal bells, loud enough to be heard from everywhere within the cathedral. Suddenly this narrow corridor was louder than a flight deck launching three squadrons at once.

"Go," her uncle told her. Or at least, she read his lips to say that. "We've got this."

"Thanks," she mouthed, and sprinted for the stairs.

This time she ran not from fear, but joy.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

"Don't forget your lines, kid," Han Solo said. He gave Jag one last reassuring pat on the shoulder, then hustled back off the dais toward the side corridor that would take him to the rear of the cathedral's main chamber.

Jag watched him go, all the while fighting down the urge to wipe his sweat-soaked palms somewhere on his jacket or pants.

Not that he was actually worried Jaina wasn't going to show. Only a minute earlier, Leia had commed Han to instruct the two men to get into position to begin the ceremony – and she wouldn't have done that unless she and Jaina really were ready to get started. Of course, the plan had been for Leia to arrive at the waiting room and pick up Han in person. Which she hadn't. Which meant something had changed the plan.

Which, considering these were the Solos, meant something unexpected, ridiculous, and probably life-threatening had occurred.

Jag closed his eyes to avoid shaking his head. _Better get used to this_.

He opened his eyes and smiled. If nothing else, life with Jaina was never going to be dull.

Inhaling a slow, deep breath, Jag turned to scan the gathered guests before him. His parents, grinning broadly, batting smitten eyes at each other like a pair of lovesick teenagers. Leia, equally beaming, seated across the aisle from them with an empty seat on one side, Allana on the other. Wyn. So many other faces, familiar and dear, friends and acquaintances. All gathered here to celebrate this day with him – and Jaina.

And where, exactly, was his bride?

A quite cough, so discreet he almost didn't catch it himself, drew his eyes to the woman opposite him. The corners of Tenel Ka's lips curled, a subtle admonition.

Jag smiled back, then turned to his brother beside him. "How long," he whispered, his lips barely parting, "do you think she's going to make me wait?"

Cem grinned like a madman. "Not," he whispered back, "long enough."

If it weren't for the throng of witnesses, Jag would have blindsided him with a Jonkaret feint. Instead, he drew his eyes to the pair of tall wooden doors that remained closed at the end of the aisle.

And just then, they swung open.

To reveal a perfect image, one Jag would never forget as long as he lived.

When he had imagined Jaina on their wedding day – in any of the numerous versions he had envisioned over the last fifteen years – she had never looked this beautiful. She had been beautiful, of course. Just not like this. Admittedly, his failure of imagination probably stemmed from the fact that his idea of high fashion hardly extended past formal military uniforms. Still, he had seen numerous holos of his mother back in her days as a galactic superstar, and not even those could have prepared him for this.

Quite literally, she took his breath away.

The dress was strapless, exposing her neck and delicate collarbones. Her hair was swept up into an intricate twist of braids and curls, which only highlighted her slender features. The bodice of pink Corellian sateen was accented with appliqués of Alderaanian lace, and hugged her body right down to an impossibly tiny waist. From there, the skirt fanned out in a swirl of pink tulle decorated with hundreds of jewels.

She looked like a princess.

Then she smiled at him and became forever the queen of his heart.

Jaina broke their secret exchange and tipped her head at the man beside her, resplendent in his dress uniform even as he seemed to fidget at its constricting formality.

From everywhere and nowhere, the traditional Corellian wedding march began to play.

A half-cocked smile on his face, Han glanced over to Jaina on his arm. Instantly Han's face brightened, and Jag felt a little warble in his stomach. Han might be giving his daughter away, but Jag was certain he had never seen Jaina's father happier.

He watched Jaina's entire procession up the aisle toward him. Every step. Every gaze met, every little smile to a guest. Every time she stole a glance at him.

And then they were at the dais. Four steps up, slowly and deliberately. Han leaned in and kissed his daughter on the cheek. Then he offered her to Jag – and offered Jag a wink.

Jag tipped his head, and Jaina stepped up beside him. Their hands met, fingers intertwined.

They looked into each other's eyes. Jag knew he was grinning like an idiot – and he didn't care.

"Ready?" he whispered.

"Absolutely."

Motion caught his eye, and he raised his gaze a few centimeters to see a single large bead of perspiration emerge from her hairline and race down her forehead. Jag met her gaze again, and raised an eyebrow. Jaina just flashed him the trademark Solo smirk – and Jag couldn't help but smile back, broader than ever.

As one they turned to face the holy man.

The kindly old man looked to Jaina, then Jag, before turning his gaze to the seated guests behind them. "Today," he began, "we are gathered…"

_This. Is. Real. _

Jag almost couldn't believe it. It wasn't just real. It was surreal.

He was actually marrying Jaina. Nothing had gotten in the way. No one had gotten in the way. After all these years, after everything they'd been through, this day was actually happening. The day he had dreamt about, then hoped for, then tried to forget, then given up even letting himself imagine could ever be possible – now it was here. And it was better in reality than it had ever been in his dreams. Beyond imagination, beyond comprehension. And the universe hadn't imploded upon itself just to stop them from being happy.

Yes, this wedding was really happening.

Inside his head, Jag could only hear one thing.

_FINALLY! _

Suddenly, Jag found himself staring into the gaze of the holy man, who was looking at him expectantly.

_Ktah! _

Apparently Han hadn't just been lightening the mood after all.

But Jag was pretty sure – and right now, pretty sure was the best he had time for – what his first word in the ceremony was supposed to be, so he said it. "Yes."

The holy man winked at him, then faced Jaina. "And you?"

"Yes," she said, leaving no space between the question and her answer.

Jag took the hint, and paid meticulous attention as the holy man began to lead them through the centuries-old Corellian wedding vows. At each cue, he responded strongly and confidently, even when the words were almost comical in their clichéd romanticism.

They had chosen this, after all. Pondering the prospect of writing their own vows had taken all of about three minutes – before Jaina had realized she didn't really want to bother, and Jag had realized he didn't have any interest in baring the deepest emotions buried in his soul with even their families, much less a couple hundred guests or the Holonet at large.

In the end, the traditional vows had been a very easy choice. But that didn't mean Jag had let those feelings go. He had written them down, all right. Every last heartfelt detail, words that had come spilling forth without conscious thought. Drawing inspiration from those heady early months of their relationship during the Yuuzhan Vong war, Jag had written Jaina a love letter. Everything he would have said in their marriage vows, and more. But only for her, from his heart straight to hers.

She hadn't read it yet, of course. That was part of the price she had paid for banishing him from their bedroom these last two nights.

But Jag had some experience being an exile, and he'd devised a solution easily enough. With a small bit of assistance from his mother, he'd ensured the sealed letter now sat atop the small desk Jaina had taken as her own in their suite – not that she was going to be in any position to find it there until morning. She would read it soon enough regardless, and then all the emotions bursting inside him finally would be drawn full circle.

Not that she needed his letter to know how he felt. He certainly didn't need a letter – or even a single word – from her to know how she felt.

Truth be told, he hadn't needed to write the letter for Jaina. He'd needed to do it for himself.

And so it happened that Jag underwent something approximating an out-of-body experience as he heard himself say, "With all my heart," followed by Jaina repeating the same words, after which the holy man declared them husband and wife and granted him permission to kiss her.

Right. Like he needed anyone's permission.

It seemed as though he watched himself lean down and kiss her lips, a lingering, tender kiss. Inwardly he rooted for the groom to land something far more passionate, if not obscene, to reflect the man's true feelings for his bride – until he remembered the Holonet cameras, and appreciated the man's wisely chosen discretion.

And then reality hit him once more, a kilogram of permacrete slabs unloaded upon his mind. He was kissing Jaina. The ceremony was over. They were married.

_FINALLY!_

Jaina broke the kiss, and gave him a private smile that melted his heart. She stretched up on her toes, just a bit, and whispered, "Guess we have to get through this, huh?"

"Unfortunately, we do."

Together they turned to face the group. He offered her his arm, and she took it swiftly. Then they began the slow procession up the aisle toward the rear doors. The whole time, all Jag could think was, _It's done! It's done! _

And then it happened again. Abruptly, as if waking from a deep slumber, Jag snapped back to reality. He stood in the receiving line, shaking hands, accepting congratulations, carrying on with platitudes as the seemingly interminable parade of departing guests moved past.

He also realized what Jaina had muttered under her breath a moment earlier. "If you think this is bad, wait until tonight."

The reception. That thought was enough to make Jag wish they had eloped and endured whatever horrible wrath their families would have inflicted. It couldn't possibly be more atrocious than the absurd event looming before them.

"Thanks," Jag replied, putting a low growl into his voice, "for reminding me."

"Any time," she said, just before she extended her hand and greeted another of the Wampas.

So he kept at it, because there was no alternative. In this crowd, even flight wouldn't succeed. He'd be recaptured again – and not by the security detail, either – before he made it anywhere near an exit.

When the line finally wound down and everyone but the wedding party was gone, their mothers embraced. Their fathers, only a little bit begrudgingly, shook hands. Jag just wanted to sit down. Before he could, Raul hurried up, and the dressmaker and the two mothers whisked Jaina away.

Cem wandered over to Jag. "Hey," he said, his eyes darting meaningfully toward Tenel Ka, "you never told me Jaina's friend was so –"

"Don't," Jag snarled, "even consider the possibility of potentially thinking about it."

Cem glowered. "Spoilsport."

"It's for your own good," Jag offered helpfully, "as much as mine."

"At least you're saving your own backside as well, then. I appreciate that."

"Someday, little brother, you actually will."

Cem raised a brow. "Oh? And when will that be?"

Jag flashed a smirk. "Well, first you'll have to somehow acquire a girlfriend…"

"A spoilsport," Cem said, rolling his eyes, "and a pompous _guant'no banahs_ besides."

"I do my best."

A few minutes later Leia and his mother returned, but not Jaina.

He looked at the two women. "She realizes that _after_ the wedding is too late to run off, right?"

Cem laughed. "We still haven't signed the official papers, remember."

"Point." Jag glanced to Tenel Ka. "Aren't you supposed to be keeping track of her?"

Stepping to his side, the Queen Mother canted her head. "She's on her way."

When he moved toward his parents, Tenel Ka caught his elbow. She leaned in close and whispered, "You never told me your brother was so handsome."

Jag blanched. He stopped feeling mortified, though, when it occurred to him that Tenel Ka had just confessed to intentionally snooping. Which meant…

"Oh," Jag said, crestfallen. "Please tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking."

"And if I am?"

Jag offered a defeated smile. "I know better than to argue with a Jedi."

Just then Jaina arrived at his side, looping her arm through his. "What'd I miss?"

"Nothing worth worrying about," Jag replied. "How about we get those papers signed now?"


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Lost in a tender kiss with her newly official husband, Jaina almost didn't catch the motion of an approaching figure at the corner of her vision. And she certainly didn't need the Force to give her the tingling sense of dread now suddenly forming in her gut.

Nor did Jag need the Force to sense her distraction. He broke the kiss and looked into her eyes, never even glancing toward the interloper. "I should have known my diversion wouldn't buy us much time."

Despite herself, Jaina smiled. "We _are_ the center of attention tonight."

"Your father?"

"Worse."

Jag blinked. "Worse?"

"Sorry to interrupt," Wedge said as he stepped into the tiny alcove, which provided a private corner just beyond the Grand Ballroom. The seasoned veteran gave Jaina an apologetic look. "But I need a moment of your time. It's, ah… important."

"Uh, sure."

Jag wore an utterly befuddled expression on his face. "You're not asking her to dance?"

Wedge winced. "You know, that probably would have been better. This whole wedding thing has really thrown me off. Out of my element, and all that."

Jaina just shook her head.

Jag's eyes narrowed. "What's going on?"

"Maybe," Wedge started to say, "I'd better –"

"No, you're staying right here." Jaina snatched his elbow before he could make a move to extricate himself. Once she was sure her holdfather wouldn't make a break for it, she released his arm, then she took a deep breath, "You've fired the first salvo."

She turned back to face Jag. "Well, you see…there was this, um…thing."

Just for a moment, during their kiss, she had forgotten the pre-wedding drama. Covert operations, underhanded tactics, assassins – they weren't supposed to be things a bride had to worry about. Kissing her new husband, the soon-to-be-revealed secret location of their honeymoon – those were the thoughts she wished desperately for. Not that she could begrudge Wedge for the interruption. He had been her champion these past few days…

"Well?" Jag's eyebrows lifted. He wasn't annoyed, yet.

She sighed, and in the exhalation willed her mind to focus. "I've not been entirely forthcoming with you about an incident that took place a couple days ago."

"A series of incidents, really," said Wedge.

"Zip it, Antilles." She reached for Jag's hand. "I didn't want you to worry. Just some little stuff, you know? We had it under control."

Jag's visage shifted meaningfully to Wedge. "We?"

Wedge held up his hands defensively. "I'm just a foot soldier in the scheme of things. Iella was running the show, truth be told, while Tycho and Winter –"

"Yes, that makes me feel even less left out, thank you." Jag turned back to Jaina. Now, he was displeased. "How about," he said slowly, carefully, "you tell me everything."

"It's complicated. Maybe –"

"This is you we're talking about, Jaina. I assumed it was complicated." The scowl was gone, replaced by something more like a grin. Temporarily. "I agree, in light of the current situation, a full debriefing will have to wait. But I'm certain a brief recap can suffice?"

There was no getting out of this one. "All right."

When she finished, Jag stood speechless for a long moment. His face was inscrutable, his eyes lost in distant thought. Then he looked down at her, shaking his head. "Oh. Is _that_ all?"

Jaina blushed, and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Jag hugged her back for the span of several heartbeats, then let her go and turned to Wedge. "Sorry. I guess we've kept you waiting."

The aging ace shrugged. "Better than having to watch my daughters flirt shamelessly. I don't know how much more I can take. They're doing it to torment me, you know."

"Yes, tragic," Jaina said. "So, what's the crucial important update? I assume it involves the inimitable Luthor Korde."

"It does indeed." Wedge leaned in, his voice low and conspiratorial. "He gave up his target."

Now it was Jaina's turn to be surprised. "He did? How'd you pull that off?"

"With my boyish charm and roguish good looks, of course."

"No, really."

Wedge muttered something under his breath, then said, "He wouldn't say anything at first, kept insisting on his procedural rights or some such. I kindly pointed out to him that he wasn't actually in GA custody yet, but he wasn't impressed. At least not until Tycho helpfully left on the Holonet coverage of the wedding, which conveniently included the sidebar announcement of Maramere becoming an Imperial protectorate." He laughed. "I've never seen a guy blanch so fast. Guess the prospect that we might just turn him over to the Imps was enough to make him sing all on his own."

Jag chuckled. "I'm getting the impression this image-improving mission of mine is going to end up becoming a bigger project than any of us realized."

Jaina poked him gently with her elbow. "You think?"

"All the stormtroopers following us everywhere probably don't help." Then he grew serious again, and looked to Wedge. "So? Who was the target?"

"Uh…" Wedge swallowed hard, and told them.

"Oh, great," Jaina said, scowling. "Now I have even _more_ explaining to do."

The three of them exchanged long, weighty stares. Three minds worked furiously for their next maneuver, then three or four steps ahead. The consequences of these events were something Jaina already had absorbed over the course of their time on Bolis Island. Yet the impact of the revelation still rendered her momentarily at a loss. Jag, though, apparently had not been struck idle. Without a word he pivoted, heading straight out of the alcove. His face bore an expression that few lived to remember.

With Jedi speed she reached for his elbow, but it was the rustle of taffeta and a flurry of limbs crashing into Jag's legs that stopped him in his tracks.

A lilting voice cried out, "I found them!"

Despite the grave undertones of their current discussion, Jaina found a smile forming on her lips. "Hi, Amelia."

The overeager bundle of legs and arms plunged into the expanse of Jaina's dress and engulfed her in a hug, followed by a more solemn, mature version of the child stepping into the alcove's portal.

"Pardon us," Tenel Ka began, until her eyes locked onto Wedge.

In the Force, Jaina felt her quick burst of relief, tinged with concern. Nothing, however, changed in the Queen's visible demeanor. "Amelia, we should leave the adults to their conversation."

Allana glanced up from the folds of Jaina's gown, dark hair and green eyes drifting carefree in a sea of pink. "But Pop said to go get Jaina. He said it was _high time they came up for_ –"

The sharp intrusion of Tenel Ka clearing her throat silenced the rest. "This is Jaina's wedding. She is allowed at least a moment with her new husband." Reaching for her daughter's hand, the Queen's eyes never left the general.

To his credit, Wedge appeared thoroughly chagrined. Jaina found herself wanting to jump to her benefactor's defense. But there was little she could say. The secret was bound up in a shroud of state secrets not even her friend could know. Then again, maybe the ruler of Hapes should know everything –

"But the _dance_!" Allana protested.

It was unusual for the young girl to show her emotions and, therefore, easy to forget she was just a child. Before Tenel Ka could adjust to the uncustomary outburst, Jag interceded, kneeling down beside Allana. "Do you want to dance with me?"

"No." Allana's tiny finger poked at the ribbon of medals on his dress uniform. "I want you to dance with your wife, so then we get to have cake."

Her new husband's brow arched and a mischievous twinkle erupted in his green eyes, the troubling news of minutes ago apparently forgotten. "A night of many firsts. I agree; the activities have been delayed far too long. We will commence post-haste."

* * *

Jag paused in the security of the alcove, watching Jaina and Tenel Ka usher Amelia toward the dance floor. Each held a tiny upstretched hand, and they walked slowly enough to accommodate the little girl's stride. Jaina glanced down. Her smile was warm, yet there was something… Nothing particular he could catalogue, exactly, like a set to her shoulder or a clench in her jaw. But he knew it, felt it, like the moment was his own – bittersweet sorrow for the twin who would never share the joy of this special moment. Then Jaina's gaze drifted back, meeting Jag's, and her brown eyes sparkled with a hint of recognition.

Jaina's smile brightened for him alone, and Jag remembered what it was he loved so much about his bride, why he had fought so hard for her and would until his dying breath. Despite the pain and loss, Jaina was a woman who found joy in the here and now. His life had been blessedly less grim since she had skirted within a hairsbreadth of his fighter back during the Battle of Garqi.

"You know, stalling isn't a viable tactic," Wedge said from just beyond the alcove.

His uncle had slipped out to allow the ladies through, and Jag realized he had forgotten him momentarily. "Not stalling. Regrouping. A viable tactic in the appropriate circumstances."

Wedge motioned for Jag to join him. "Sorry."

"No need for apologies." Jag marched forward into the main reception area and tipped his head as several guests recognized the groom's return. A hand on his shoulder stayed him. He turned back to meet the general's concerned stare.

"Iella and I have this covered. Don't let it ruin your night."

Admittedly, Jag's mind had been racing since hearing about the attack Jaina had thwarted only moments before they had wed. He already had processed numerous scenarios and alternatives for disseminating the information to the correct personnel to ensure security with minimal interruptions to the festivities. "You and Iella should be enjoying the reception with your daughters. You're family, after all."

"Exactly my point."

"Jag?" Jaina, who had left Tenel Ka and Amelia to meander toward the dais, now stood beckoning him to join her.

His wife had sacrificed some portion of their wedding week to protect him from the realities of duty. She deserved no less. Who else was Jag going to trust? He placed a hand on Wedge's shoulder. "Thank you."

As they closed on the central area of the Grand Ballroom, the orchestra rounded up their song with an embellished flourish, and the master of ceremonies – Mon T'Pithon, a popular Cerean host of an entertainment holojournalism show – began his booming announcement.

"The-e-ee time has arrived, ladies and gentlebeings. Gather round as we toast the bride and groom in their first dance." The crowd shifted subtly, a hush rolling through the room until all eyes focused on the dais. "Yes, the rumors are true…" The Cerean sauntered across the dais, extending the drama of his announcement. "We have a special guest here tonight. All the way from Vikova, Grand Dame Fronatel –"

Applause roared across the room. It had been a calculated decision to pick one of the galaxy's most celebrated songstresses, Lana Fronatel. Back in the day, she had been an award-winning actress in addition to the voice of her generation. Now her public appearances were rare, and live performances non-existent. But she had been a confidant of his mother and happily had accepted the personal request to perform a ballad. The song was beautiful and heartfelt; it was not, however, their song.

That didn't matter, though, because as the host aided the Grand Dame to the front of the orchestra, then summoned both Jaina and Jag to the dance floor before them, most of the attention remained on the rare spectacle of the once-in-a-lifetime performance. Which made this sliver in time a little more intimate than it would have been otherwise. As he took Jaina's hand to guide her to the dance floor, those who counted as family and friends remained fixed on the newlyweds.

"You ready?" Jaina asked with an impish grin.

"I have an option?" He formed the correct hold for the Alderaanian waltz, right arm out, left hand in the small of her back. "Can we skip ahead to the evasive maneuvers?"

"Wasn't the evasive maneuver the dance?"

"Um."

"Jagged Fel, did you have less than honorable intentions back on Hapes?"

He stepped off into the waltz. "My father raised me to be a gentleman."

"Your father raised a Corellian ace."

They twirled with the music, Jag trying to ignore the myriad of faces in the crowd. He spun them toward the center of the floor. "If I was strictly a pilot, my dear wife, then my evasive maneuvers would have included…" He bent down to whisper the rest in her ear.

A warm flush rose to Jaina's cheeks. Jag allowed himself an uncharacteristically beaming grin.

"Remind me," she said, "to dig out that red dress some time."

"Gladly." The song neared the second chorus, and Jag's brain reminded his heart there were more than two people in the room. "Shall we?"

Jaina tipped her head toward Mon, who had been dutifully waiting for the signal. He in turn invited the wedding party to join the newlyweds. Jag had his back to the dance floor. When her brow arched he suspected events were taking an unexpected twist. "Perhaps I should warn my friend about the consequences of dancing with Corellian aces."

One foot forward and step-pivot to the side gave Jag a full read on the situation. "Why can't he ever just stick to the plan?"

"And dance with his sister?" Jaina snorted. "Safer, maybe, but dancing with a beautiful woman, a queen no less, beats chaperoning any day. Although we might want to warn your brother about the consequences of stepping on Tenel Ka's toes."

"Fortunately, Cem's capable of avoiding a diplomatic incident on the level of toe stomping."

"Possibly. But there are many other levels of potential entanglement."

Jag bristled. "I already warned him once. Really, it's Wyn I'm worried about." The wedding party had been unbalanced, so they had planned on Wyn dancing with Cem. Tenel Ka had graciously made the offer when their sister had looked crestfallen about missing the chance to showcase her talent for looking good on a man's arm. Apparently unfazed by their little sister's dilemma, Cem executed a smooth turn. Impressed, Tenel Ka tilted her chin up and smiled sweetly at Jag's brother. Jag edged in the other couple's direction.

With the strength of the Force to back her, Jaina resisted. "You can't control everything, darling. Besides I'm sure your sister understands."

Jag witnessed the final death knell of the plan, when his sister sailed gracefully past, beaming in the arms of a dashing Jedi Knight.

Jag barrel-rolled out of Jaina's arms, but instantly felt the tug of an invisible Force grasp whip him right back to where he started.

"Easy there, flyboy."

"My sister –"

"– is dancing with Valin Horn." Jaina twirled away, never releasing her grip on his hand. She paused, her skirt still whirling out from her momentum. "Don't they make a handsome couple?"

"He's Corellian."

"And a pilot. A Jedi pilot, I might add. I'd say your sister is a lucky girl."

"I don't think –"

"You can't have it both ways, Jagged Fel."

"I can try, Mrs. Fel." The words had slipped easily off his tongue, yet the truth of them scattered his thoughts to the far reaches of the galaxy.

A lopsided grin graced Jaina's lips, and she tipped her head forward, nestling a cheek into his chest. The rest of the dance passed in a blur. After being pushed away, seeing his dreams crushed and revived, held on the razor's edge of battles between light and dark, Jag was finally married to Jaina. In the song's closing notes, he simply shut his eyes and hugged her closer.

Somewhere in the distance a soft thunder of applause seeped into his reality. The space between them opened, but gratefully only long enough for Jaina's lips to find his. For once, Jag felt completely uninhibited. His arms wrapped around her slim waist; her hands slipped along the contour of his shoulder. Their kiss spoke of undying love, heady dreams –

A smile formed under his, and Jag withdrew enough to look down into her twinkling brown-eyed gaze. "Your father?" Thankfully, this time her response wasn't "worse," just a simple nod. Jag turned to acknowledge Han. "Captain Solo."

Jaina ribbed him gently.

Jag cleared his throat. "Fa–Dad."

"Kind of sticks in the back of your throat, huh, kid?"

"It'll take some getting used to."

"No kidding." Han rubbed a palm on his pantleg. "Do you mind if I take one last spin with my daughter?"

"Of course not." Jag had nearly forgotten the next step: the father-daughter dance. Han clearly had not.

Jaina accepted her father's proffered elbow and they fell easily into rhythm with the lilting rhapsody. As Jag watched, the bliss of their first dance faded into the depth of his memory, one to savor in the more difficult times that were sure to come. He didn't want to leave Jaina, but a primal urge deep in his gut compelled him. In her father's arms she was safe and protected. This wedding had been about building a new family and all the obligations that came with it.

Jaina's actions – more than her spoken vows – reminded Jag that his wife felt that same duty. She had saved his father. Their happiness had been one misstep from a soul-breaking reversal. His fists clenched and the sharp echo of his battle-tested heart sounded in Jag's ears. The wash of faces began to click into view like the bogies on his clawcraft's heads-up display.

With one last glance he checked that Jaina was safely tucked in her father's arms, then honed in on his target. Even among a crowd, her silver-red hair and her crisp white uniform made her easily identifiable. Hightailing toward a remote side exit, she never saw him closing on her six.

"Chief of State. Leaving before we could exchange pleasantries?"

His words froze Daala in her tracks. She hesitated, her face hidden. Her guest, however, turned brazenly to greet Jag. "We were just getting some air."

Somehow, Boba Fett looked a lot less intimidating up close. True, the bounty hunter had given Jaina what Jag couldn't – a chance to live past her confrontation with Darth Caedus – and for that he probably should have felt eternally in Fett's debt. But any obligation had been erased hours ago in a foiled assassination attempt.

At long last Daala pivoted, her face hardened and inscrutable as she returned Jag's stare. "Head of Sta – oh, that's right. What _do_ we call you now?"

"Ambassador. For the Imperial Mission to restore galactic prosperity."

"How noble." Daala linked her arm into Fett's. "Perhaps the Empire should make Mandalore one of its first priorities."

Without hesitation, entirely sincere, Jag said, "All they have to do is ask."

Fett stiffened, instantly threatening. "Hollow words. Come, Natasi. We've made our appearance."

The bounty hunter turned toward the doors, and was met with a stiff arm to his shoulders. "I'm not finished."

"I could finish you in short order, Ambassador," Fett snarled, shrugging off Jag's hand.

"I'd like to see you try. Especially since you're going to have to come through a short-tempered Jedi who knows your best tricks." Jag's glare snapped to Daala's icy green eyes. "As for you, Chief of State, I came over to suggest that you might wish to leave before the news broke."

"Of the Imperial protectorate?" She huffed derisively. "That footage rolled before you had finished your pledges of unity."

"Oh, not that. I was referring to the news of the attempt on the new Grand Moff's life."

Nothing changed. She hadn't blinked or set her shoulders. No tilt of the chin. Nothing. She just opened her mouth and said, "I can assure you the Galactic Alliance would not tolerate such a heinous act."

Jag had no doubt Daala's shrewd tactical mind would ensure that statement rang true. But her response, one that revealed no shock or outrage, confirmed that Jag no longer needed complicated investigations and long-winded analysis to uncover his enemy. He leaned forward, his voice hushed. "If you ever come after my family again, you'd better be sure you get every single one of us. One Fel with a blood feud is more than an entire battalion of supercommandos could stop."

"Are we done?" she hissed.

"We're done." Although the baritone voice of his father had been unexpected, it was decidedly welcome. If looks could kill, Soontir Fel's one good eye would have scored a mortal blow.

Daala backed one step, until the rooted stance of her partner stopped her. The bounty hunter would not accept the night's defeat even as Wedge Antilles and Luke Skywalker eased to either side of the Empire's new leader. Daala, though, had made a lifetime career of turning tail, and offered only a less than respectful bow before she dragged her escort from the room.

"You told him?" Jag asked Wedge, his eyes never leaving his father.

"You did entrust your judgment." Soontir said, nonplussed.

"I did." _To handle the matter privately_, Jag kept to himself.

"Very well, then." Before Jag could protest, his father took him by the shoulder. "Now we have that settled, I'm ready to celebrate."

"She just tried to eliminate you." Jag shuffled his feet, resisting the guidance to return toward the dance floor.

"A good sign."

"Father." Jag slammed on the reverse thrusters.

"Think about it."

It only took a moment. "You're pleased that she's afraid of you."

"Unfortunately," Luke added somberly, "there's much more she's afraid of, as well. At some point, I think we all need to talk."

"Yes, but not now." Wedge held a hand up, urging the foursome back toward the core of the festivities. "I know a few women, especially the Queen of Hapes, would be very disappointed if we missed the next dance."

The beat of a familiar Corellian folksong thumped across the Grand Ballroom. Falling into step behind Luke and Wedge, a realization dawned on Jag. He had missed most of the father-daughter dance, and more importantly the chance to join Han and Jaina with his own mother near the end.

"She'll understand, son," his father said as he matched him stride for stride. The four men spread out, Luke to the left, Wedge to the right, with Jag and Soontir between them. They merged into a near-perfect circle, mostly males, who clapped and whistled encouragement as the women began to wind around the dance floor in the traditional dance.

Leading, Jaina danced with the same grace with which she fought. Immediately following the processional line that wound behind her were the many women who shaped Jaina's life. Leia performed the steps with the polish of someone who had danced them many times. Lithe as a tusckat, Tenel Ka stilled appeared formidable despite her obvious enjoyment; Amelia's button-nosed face reflected her determination to master the steps to the same skill level as the first three women. Behind her, Wyn grinned in amusement as she attempted to assist in the young girl's efforts. Syal, even with all her years away from the Known Regions, proved she was a Corellian at heart and no less stunning with age than when she had captured his father's heart.

More and more women joined the merriment, laughing and flirting with the clusters of men at the edge of the circle. Jaina snagged a reluctant brunette woman, not accepting her initial resistance. Only when a rousing cheer erupted from the small group of Mandalorians did Jag realize that Jaina's captive was Mirta Ghev. Tyria Tainer, recognizable in her Jedi robes, hopped in behind the diminutive Mando and her exit was conveniently blocked. Within seconds Mirta acquiesced and joined in the dance. Then a squadron's worth of former Rogue pilots howled their appreciation, just a little bit louder than the Mandolorians.

Wedge leaned forward so he could be heard. "You know, the original version of this dance was an offering to the Goddess Fayti."

Jag recalled the Corellian fables told by his mother. "The goddess of fruitful production."

"Which explains Hobbie Klivian's uncustomary enthusiasm," Soontir noted dryly.

The Jedi Grand Master arched an eyebrow. "You know about the Rogues' bet?"

"I was a Rogue, you know."

"What bet is that?" Jag almost feared the answer to his own question.

Luke obviously didn't care and responded to Soontir instead. "Hobbie picked the month I had wanted."

"Are you privy to some special insight from the Force?" Wedge asked.

Soontir shook his head. "I think not. That would be cheating."

Luke grinned mischievously. "How do you know I wouldn't?"

"Because I bluffed you quite effectively in sabacc last night, Master Skywalker." Soontir's expression remained stone-faced. "I took the twelfth month."

Although not generally prone to missing the point of a conversation, especially where pilot humor was concerned, Jag had remained until that precise moment completely oblivious. "Do you mean to say you've wagered on when we'll have children?"

"Yes," the other three said in unison.

Jag wanted to be offended, but try as he might he really couldn't manage it. The truth was, he wanted a family and his new title and position afforded Jaina and him the possibility of making that dream happen. So if he wasn't going to be offended at being the butt of a Rogue joke, then he at least had to dish it right back out. "Uncle Wedge?"

"Yes?"

"Does your daughter know the history behind this dance?"

It took the seasoned pilot a split second to notice his youngest daughter spinning into the arms of a dashing young man regaled in the official dress uniform of the GA Starfighter Corps. Wedge bristled, tipping his head to the others. "Excuse me, gentlemen, but I'm about to pull rank."

With the precision of a skilled pilot, he split between a trio of twirling skirts, heading in the direction of Myri and her unfortunate wingman.

"Well played." Luke patted Jag on the shoulder. "If you don't mind, I have some business of my own to attend to."

Soontir waited until the Jedi has disappeared into crowd, then turned to face his son. "Do you feel better now?"

"I'm finally married to the woman I love. I would assume the answer is obvious." Jag held up one hand to offer a slight wave to Jaina, who blew him a kiss from the center of the dance floor. The exchange resulted in renewed hoots from various factions around the room, who all obviously had some vested interest in their union.

"Actually, I meant after threatening my erstwhile compatriot," his father countered in a low voice.

"Oh." Jag's collar felt a notch tighter. "That. Yes, much better."

"Good. But as your new leader, I'd advise you to not make it a habit."

"I'll do my best." By now Jaina had started beckoning him with a crook of her finger. "If you don't mind…"

His father nodded his approval, and Jag plotted the most direct path to join his wife. Seconds later, he held her in his arms.

Jaina draped her arms over his shoulder, tilting her chin up to await a kiss. He happily granted her wish. As the roar of the revelers reached a new pitch, she pulled back and laughed. "If the Rogues had their way we'd have a private escort to the honeymoon suite."

Jag shared the sentiment, but instead he said, "You knew about the bet?"

"You didn't?" Still dancing to the beat, she nudged him around in a circle so she could wave at her former squad members.

"Apparently I'm always the last to know."

"Oh right. I forgot you're not a Rogue." She grinned. "Although Janson did promise to make you an honorary member if he won."

"As good a target as any to shoot for, then."

Jaina shook her head. "No way. The only one you're going to help win that bet is me."

"You?"

"Of course. Sucker bet."

"In that case, what target are we shooting for?"

Just as she opened her mouth to respond the orchestra flared, many of the partiers began to clap their approval, and a wave of friends rushed toward the couple. Jaina simply responded with a laugh – that was instantly drowned out by the high-pitched wail of the amplification system overloading.

"I hope everyone enjoyed the last dance," the voice of the master of ceremonies boomed. The crowd cheered. "Good, good. I have been asked to assist on a _little_ surprise for the bride and groom."

Jag glanced down at Jaina, who stood with one arm wrapped around him. She seemed equally perplexed by the interruption in the schedule. When her gaze became fixed, he followed it to the front of the ballroom. The crowd parted and a seemingly endless contingent of waitstaff marched into the room in double-file lines. They continued onto the stage, taking the left and right side accordingly. Each one held either an enormous bottle of champagne or a tray full of empty glass flutes.

"Jaina," Mon paused dramatically, "it was not long ago that you shared in the wedding of another friend."

Beside Jag, she nodded, then looked up to mouth one word: "Mirta."

"She wishes in turn to share in your celebration," Their host indicated the wall of champagne bottle-wielding waitstaff, "with a toast. And to help in raising our glasses I give you Jedi Grand Master Luke Skywalker."

The surprise was intriguing, but Jag found the pressing matter of the Rogue bet still demanded his attention. He played the part of a dutiful groom, dipping down to bestow a quick kiss on his bride's cheek, and took the opportunity to whisper, "Target?"

The shake of her head was almost imperceptible. As Luke headed for the dais, she spared a quick love-struck glance at Jag. "Not a chance. Can't have you getting complacent."

So the game was on, was it? There were other ways of extracting the pertinent information, but none of them accommodated a crowd of hundreds watching their every move. Which brought him back to the moment, and Luke Skywalker stepping into the spotlight.

"First, to my niece – I promise, no prophecies tonight."

They'd both been holding their breath. When the words were spoken, Jag felt himself exhale. Jaina, however, did not. Arm around him, her fingers dug into his side while she rolled her former Master's necklace between her other fingertips. More than anyone, Jag understood the toll exacted on Jaina for carrying the mantle of Sword of the Jedi. He had fought her fate and lost her. Ultimately, he had been the one to accept her role before even she had been willing to.

"Tonight I'm just your uncle." The Grand Master's blue eyes focused on Jaina, with a look Jag knew all too well. Jedi had a way of gazing into a person's soul and seeing the truth inside. When the other person also happened to be a Jedi, they expressed emotion in a silent conversation of sorts. The exchange was over in the blink of an eye. Her hand left the necklace and extended across her body as a second way to hold onto Jag. He laced his fingers with hers, and Jaina finally let out her breath.

"It's hard to reconcile the little rambunctious grease monkey I once knew with the beautiful woman standing before me. I remember how much hope and expectation filled your parents' hearts when you were born. Not until I was blessed with Ben did I truly understand what your father had tried to tell me shortly after your birth, that the promise of our child's life is the very core of what we fight for.

"Sometimes, though, all we know is the struggle, and we forget why we fight so hard. It's for moments like this, for people like you, and for love like you two share. Jaina, there was a time when you alone stood tall in that fight, no longer an innocent life we needed to protect, but rather our protector. Just like that little grease monkey who worked tirelessly with Chewbacca to fix the _Falcon_'s hyperdrive, you never bemoaned the task laid out before you. At times we've taken that quiet certitude for granted, because you have always been there, always tried your best to do the right thing. Always remember, Jaina, I am very proud of you. I love you.

"You are truly blessed by a love that has survived the test of time, and will be remembered long past this life. That is more than most can hope for."

With a nod of his head, Luke signified his toast was complete. Jag thought he might succumb to the bittersweet undertones of the moment, especially when he caught sight of the lone tear trickling down Jaina's cheek. Then suddenly the room erupted with hundreds of earsplitting pops. Instinct kicked in. Jag spun, shielding Jaina with his body. He reached for his sidearm, which of course wasn't there.

Beneath him, her body quivered. The noise had stopped. He shifted Jaina in his arms so he could see her face. There was no sign of pain or hurt, only mirth, as her eyes gazed up at him.

Then she giggled. "Neat Jedi trick, huh?"

Jag glanced up. The guests all looked surprised. Some assessed his awkward position with a tinge of amusement, but most were staring at the dais. Jag's green eyes searched for whatever drew their attention, and he found Luke Skywalker holding a flute filled with champagne. The Jedi saluted him jauntily.

"To the bride and groom."


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

Blinking her eyes against the early rays of sun peeking through the window, Jaina stretched like a tuskcat rising from a sated slumber. She rolled within the sheets and craned her neck toward the chrono. 0727. Remarkably late for a woman accustomed to early morning drills and days crammed full of obligations. On the other hand, it meant she only had acquired a little more than three hours of sleep…

"Caf."

Extricating herself from the tangle, she yawned and stretched again. Vertebrae popped, and muscles complained. Yesterday's shenanigans had left her sore and stiff, all right. What she really needed was a good run. Considering the hour and the day's schedule ahead, she made a command decision.

She tugged on shorts and a tank, then snatched her lightsaber. She began to strap on its shoulder holster, adjusting the fit as she walked toward the door. Halfway into the living suite, Jaina drew up – and the lightsaber slapped into her palm.

"Whoa!" The man who'd been sitting on the couch now stood backing away from her, his hands held out defensively in front of him.

"Kriff it, Cem." Jaina holstered her lightsaber. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Uh… Jag let me in? It was his idea."

She walked over to the table piled with gifts and grabbed a juri fruit from one of the baskets. "Lucky for you I wasn't inclined to stroll around naked. It's the first day of my honeymoon, you realize."

"Right. Sorry." The blush was apparent even through Cem's tattoos. "But my father was worried you might try to sneak out unsupervised."

Jaina took a bite of the fruit. "Whyever would he think I'd do something foolish like that?"

He said nothing, only pointed at the window out which she had jumped after her Yuuzhan Vong attacker.

"Technically, I snuck back _in_." Scrutinizing his attire of grey and black active wear, she arched an eyebrow. "So are you here officially, or just to see me off?"

"Officially." Cem stepped toward the front door, then waved it open. "I'll be supervising your escort detail."

Jaina followed him into the corridor. The standard pair of guards flanked the door, and a new, second pair stood further down, at the lifts. They all snapped to attention. "No Major Fiore this morning?"

"He's been… relieved."

Jaina stayed rooted at the door. "Because of me?"

Several paces ahead already, Cem pivoted to face her. "No. Your mother."

"What'd he do to her?"

"Long story. Classified. You know the drill." He thumbed in the direction of the lift. "So what's it going to be? Lazy stroll on the boardwalk or running me ragged along the beach?"

Striding after him and into the opening lift, she replied, "Boardwalk."

"Man up the beachskimmers," Cem barked into his comm.

The door swished closed, followed immediately by the sinking sensation of the lift beginning to descend. This was the part that would take some getting used to. Things happened differently in the Empire, and going rogue had repercussions she'd never really had to bother considering before. After yesterday's incident, some level of debriefing was paramount, and she couldn't bring herself to begrudge Jag rising early on the morning after their wedding to finish necessary business before their scheduled afternoon departure. That was one thing. The heightened security and retasking of key personnel, though, implied that, despite her best efforts, Jaina had disappointed her new father-in-law.

"I promise not to make it too difficult to tail me," she told her brother-in-law, keeping her sigh to herself.

Without warning, Cem slapped the control panel and the lift shuddered to an abrupt stop. "Look, I know this isn't what you're accustomed to, much less want. In fact, if you ask me it seems almost contrary to the whole reason we're charged with protecting you. Because something tells me that when things go sour, you'll be taking three or four more lives into your hands, instead of just your own."

"Cem…"

"But it's not my call. Let's get one thing perfectly clear, Jaina. If it comes down to it, to choosing who gets saved and who dies, you're to choose your own life – no matter the cost. That's why we're here. That's what my father expects."

"That's not who I am."

"Sure it is." Not taking his gaze away, he reached behind him for the lift controls. "You're a Fel now."

There was no further discussion. Once the doors opened, Cem was all business. The lobby was atypically quiet, and the few beings who occupied it consisted of staff and guests Jaina did not recognize. Apparently the reception had overtaxed her friends even more than she'd realized. The sight of two troopers in speeder gear waiting at attention, though, was enough to stay her smile. She passed through the lobby and out the side exit to the boardwalk, where she found the two speeder bikes at the foot of the steps leading to the beach.

Jaina stretched in silence, then picked up a casual jog along the shoreline. Even without the Force, she was aware of the speeder bikes flanking her and her brother-in-law maintaining a respectful shadowing position behind. For the daughter of the former Chief of State, tuning them out should have been simple. But it wasn't.

She tried to concentrate on the pounding of her feet on the sand. The second beat of steps seemed to overwhelm her own.

Instead, she tried to enjoy the beauty of her surroundings – the brilliant sparkle of the aquamarine sea, the playful dance of the birds, the pristine expanse of white beaches ahead. Along the shoreline, she noticed a pleasure boat encroach on the security zone – and watched as one trooper hastened the oblivious tourists on their way.

Jaina chalked up her distraction to one too many champagne toasts, not to mention an emotionally draining week. In times like this, she knew to draw strength from the positive things in her life. Despite her apparent propensity for sabotaging her future with Jag, despite war and politics, despite everything, she was finally married to the one man who had made her heart flutter. She had fought and struggled; she had prevailed.

Finally she had a life to share, and a family willing to forgive the unforgivable, to rebuild her and protect her as one of their own. Why, then, was there this undeniable ache, like a stitch from running too hard, gnawing deep in her gut?

A harsh toll had been exacted on her the past few months. This was her still-healing body protesting a run that wouldn't have even elevated her heartbeat a year ago. But she'd been training. With Jag and Cem. Even Soontir…

Her feet faltered, and she slowed to a walk. Her hand went to her side as the twinge expanded. She felt concern from her protector, and looked back to wave him off. That moment, seeing the tall man with blue eyes, sucked the breath right out of her as swiftly as a sudden decompression in space. A brother…

No matter how hard she tried in the years ahead, the hole inside her would never heal.

Ahead a towering volcanic rock, resembling an obsidian Imperial shuttle in both size and shape, jutted up from the pristine beach. Jaina climbed out along its ragged incline. The speeder bikes couldn't get too close because the waves broke violently, throwing water into the air. Cem didn't seem compelled to follow. Near the tip of the jetty the rock rose nearly perpendicular to the sea, forming a protective wall. Jaina flopped against the wet, unforgiving outcropping and covered her eyes.

Jacen, where did I fail you?

A question with no answers. His loss she struggled to accept, like an arm cleaved from her body. How had she not recognized the signs, felt the darkness close around his soul? They had been connected from the womb; he had always been her solace. Some niggling part of her wondered if the attentions of a young pilot hadn't distracted her from the reality of her twin's fall? If she hadn't surrendered to the protective arms of another man, would she have seen the truth? Jaina was the Sword of the Jedi, but she was still weak. She had still wanted, even if for small slivers of time, to be protected. Had she let Jag's love slowly substitute for her brother's, until she didn't notice it was missing far too late?

At what price was the fleeting happiness of yesterday's wedding?

Her legs buckled. Jaina's back slid roughly along the rock wall as the paralyzing sensation of warm viscous fluid surrounded her palm. She didn't want to look, but enough of these breath-robbing attacks had shaken her recovery that Jaina willed herself to glance down. She readied to find blood on her hands, every time expecting it to be real.

Her hand rested in a small tidal pool, pressed into the slippery lichen warmed by the morning sun.

Jaina inhaled, forcing her lungs to expand and resist her mind's physiological torment on her body. Wasn't this just guilt? Her breath left in ragged gasps, unable to push back the uncertainty and tears welled in her eyes. Had she rushed headlong into marriage? Was this a mistake? Had she blindly walked into a prison of her own making?

The thought made her insides twist. Only a tremendous exertion of will stopped the bile rising up. Her father – a man who could read a bluff a kilometer away – had been full of doubt up to the very moment he had walked her down the aisle…

A wave crashed into the rocks, and Jaina shielded her body instinctively from the spray. Amazingly not a drop landed on her, only a warm wind blew against the palms of her hands. She blinked in disbelief, then blinked again when the blaze of sunlight blinded her momentarily.

When she opened her eyes a man stood before her. Jaina exploded to her feet. Her senses heightened; her eyes focused intently on her potential opponent. Yet something kept her lightsaber where it rested snugly in her shoulder holster.

Just as quickly, alarm changed to disbelief.

"Anakin?"

He grinned, that lop-sided goofy Solo grin. "Lubed! It worked this time."

"_This_ time?" Jaina's heart raced; her breath came rapid and shallow. "Please don't tell me you've been trying all along. That you were trying to come tell me how wrong I've been, and didn't show up until now."

Her brother, all blue and ethereal, laughed. The sound rooted out the hollow sensation that had crippled her not more than a minute before – and, oddly, a happy snort erupted from deep inside her.

"What," she brushed the remaining tears from her eyes, "is so funny?"

"You." Anakin tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle his laugh. "You haven't changed."

"Apparently you've been out of the loop, little brother." She sighed sadly. "A lot has changed."

His grin waned, and Anakin pivoted so he stood beside her. He leaned back to sit against the rock, patting the spot next to him. "From a certain point of view, maybe."

Rolling her eyes, she joined him. "You sound like Obi-Wan in that stupid holovid about Uncle Luke."

"So what if I do? From where I'm sitting, Jaina, you haven't changed much at all from the sister who fought by my side on Myrkr."

"Haven't changed? That was a lifetime ago, most of it a living hell. All this fighting and death… Not much has changed in the galaxy, sure. But me? Anakin, I killed –" She couldn't even bring herself to say it. Not to the first brother she had failed.

"Darth Caedus," he finished for her. His voice had that tone to it now, the one that brought back so many memories. The one that sprang out when Anakin felt he had been ignored by his older siblings, or their father or mother. Being the youngest of the Solo clan, Anakin had often felt overshadowed. Even now, when she didn't want to look in his eyes, she had to. The corner of his mouth turned up, in more of an assurance than a smile. "You did what needed to be done. You killed a Sith Lord."

"But –"

"No. Take Jacen out of the equation. If Caedus had been a Neimoidian politician, would you have equivocated?"

"Or Alema Rar? Of course not." Jaina threw her hands up. "Don't think I haven't gone there. But I can't just take my twin out of the equation, Anakin. It doesn't work like that."

"But it _does_, and you did." Anakin's arm crossed, his hands burying into the folds of his Jedi robes. "Finishing Darth Caedus was the right thing to do, no matter who it was he used to be."

"Would you have done it?"

"The question is, _could I_?" He shook his head ruefully. "I'd like to think so, but I won't pretend I really know. I never got a chance to be that person. What I do know is that the Force weaves our paths so that our strengths serve their best purpose."

"How can you possibly believe that, after what Jacen became?"

"What he turned himself into. Just because the Force offers us a destiny doesn't mean we'll choose it." His blue eyes were full of the same confidence and determination Jaina remembered from their last hours together. She had told him as much, but at the time she had been the older, wiser sister determined to see her brother's mission through to the end, despite his wide-eyed, innocent optimism. Anakin had known his destiny and fulfilled it. "For the record, dying doesn't take away the doubt. It's no easier than living with your choices. Just lonelier, and duller."

"Duller?"

"I'd give anything to taste some thakitillo," he said with a sly grin, then his face saddened quickly. "Or to have given you a reassuring hand on the shoulder a million times over."

"You're lonely?"

"Well, Ulaha and many others are there. And of course, Mara. Things haven't been the same since she's been on the scene."

"And Jacen?" It was a question Jaina was afraid to ask, but still the words slipped out unchecked.

"He exists beyond the plane of life."

"Does he suffer?" She didn't want that.

"The echoes of our past resound for eternity."

A tear trickled down Jaina's cheek. "He must hate me."

"No, no." Anakin reached out, but she felt nothing. He could not touch her. "When he died, he was consumed with fear and rage, but also freed from the limitations of his tortured body and mind. Outside our bodies, time begins and ends at the same moment, and our deeds fold upon themselves, revealing the truths of our lives. It's got to be a painful eternity to know that you forced the one person who best knew the depths of your soul to run you through with a lightsaber."

She winced. "Yes, the emotionless Sword."

"Jaina, you have this incredible ability to separate your emotions from the task at hand, but it's your capacity to feel those emotions while not serving them that sets you apart from the Jedi."

"Okay, now I know I've lost my mind." Jaina glanced up to the sky. "Please, Force, save me from the madness that has claimed my brother."

A sharp pop cracked behind her ear. "Ow! Did you just slap me?"

"Astral." He chuckled. "Ghosting and Force slaps from beyond in the same day."

"Anakin…" She rubbed her ear.

"Stop that," he said sternly. "You did your job; you did it with the support of the Jedi Council and our parents, and most importantly, you brought balance back to the Force. Our brother's soul is a work in progress, but his fate shouldn't dictate yours."

"Hasn't Jacen suffered enough?"

"Irrelevant. If he's decided he's wrong and seeks redemption, he doesn't just get a free pass."

She opened her mouth to argue, but Anakin pressed his point.

"Regret doesn't diminish the consequences; you should know that better than most. You told me as much after the attack in the slave city. Dwelling on his loss won't bring Jacen back – and it may cost more in the end. He made his choices; you made yours. You need to stop blaming yourself for the past. It gets in the way of the life laid out before you."

She held up her hand. The ice crystals of her new wedding ring twinkled more brilliantly than the morning sunrays on the aquamarine waters before them. The band should have hinted to the promise for the future. It just felt heavy. "Is it not over?"

"Don't fear the _alone_ of your destiny. It isn't what you think." Anakin hesitated, pondering his next words. "All this time I've tried to visit you, wondering why the Force wouldn't allow it when you were suffering so terribly. Now it makes perfect sense."

"Of course, it does," she snipped, her fist clenching.

"It does." Anakin started glowing, much like he had in the moment of his death. The Force whirled into him in visible strings of light. "You've marched down this path of your own volition. You didn't need me until now – to tell you you've done it right."

"Have I?" Her brother burned so brightly, Jaina had to shield her eyes. She felt him then, his touch merely a whisper against the side of her brow. "Anakin, don't go…"

"You're not alone," Anakin said, but she knew it wasn't true. He had left her; Jaina began to cry.

There was so much left to say. How's Mara? Did he have anything to say to Mom and Dad? If you could do it all over again…

But the moment was lost. In her imagination she had spoken to her brother a thousand times, and every single time it had played out better than this. In her dreams, everything was perfect. Anakin had Tahiri. Jacen, Tenel Ka. She had followed her little brother to Myrkr to protect his rash, hopeful soul from the crush of war. She would have taken a million amphistaffs, suffered untold breakings, for the promise of his earnest faith in the Force and his love of life.

"Jaina?" Scrambling to her feet, she held her back toward her approaching protector. She reached out, not feeling threatened, yet wanting to get a sense of Cem's concern. What she felt was completely unexpected.

"Jag." She stepped away from the rock wall so she stood unprotected on the outcropping.

"Are you all right?" Her eyes did not deceive her. Jag stepped forward, dressed in a casual black jumpsuit. The corners of his mouth were drawn tight.

"I'm…" She glanced down, wondering what she could say that he'd believe. She met his green-eyed gaze. "I was talking with my brother."

"Anakin?"

She nodded.

He didn't ask if she was all right this time. Jag simply walked forward, taking her into his arms. Just like that, her doubt washed away. This man truly loved her. Her gift of the Force allowed her to feel it radiating from every fiber of his being. Anakin had given his life so she could have that chance. She owed it to him to take it.

The sun shined a little bit brighter, and the emptiness in her heart filled with an emotion that had long been elusive – hope.

Jag pulled back, his hand cupping her cheek. "I love you."

"You'd better." She kissed his palm. "For a long time."

He bent down and tasted her lips. "Forever."

"So," she said, wrapping her arms around his waist, "what do I have to do to get you all to myself?"

"Say the word, my dear wife."

"You mean, after lunch with the ambassador from Kentith and before I get debriefed by your – watch out!" A wave barreled into the outcropping, and Jaina tried to jerk away. Jag held firm, and seconds later they both were thorougly drenched. "Oh, kriff. Nothing until I get out of these clothes."

Jag grinned, hugging her tighter. "I'll help."

"When we get back to the room, flyboy."

"No need to go back there." He nuzzled her neck suggestively.

"Um, Jag? Privacy?"

"You trust me?"

"Of course."

He waved a hand, and a distant rooster tail signified one of the shadowing speeder bikes hurtling their way. The trooper reached them in a matter of seconds. The deceleration on the speeders was quite impressive. Without saying a word, the trooper dismounted. Jag climbed into the seat, then looked back as though he was disappointed Jaina hadn't already hopped right on behind him.

"Milady," the trooper said in a detached filtered voice as he held his hand out to assist her.

Jaina considered his offer for a millisecond before using a Force-assisted leap to land in behind her husband. She grabbed hold as tight as she could and kissed the side of his neck.

She was pretty sure she was in for the ride of her life.


	17. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Whisking above the cerulean waters, far from the resort island's coastline, Jaina remembered what it meant to be free. The wind whipped her hair out of its restrictive band. Salt water splattered her face. She closed her eyes and buried her cheek into Jag's back. At their breakneck speed, it was probably better she didn't look. Instead she reached for him in the Force, the connection almost instantaneous.

The grim, determined persona he usually projected didn't exist. No fear of an impending attack, no forethought toward an upcoming meeting, only a deep-seated sense of fulfillment. Jag was truly happy.

Perhaps it was a rare moment of flying. The speeder bike certainly wasn't his old clawcraft, capable of pushing a man to the limits of his physical abilities. But the open-aired ride over the ocean sure got the heart racing and the senses heightened. Thrill like this was a pilot's lifeblood. The fact that Jag had given up commanding a squadron saddened Jaina. Still, she had never heard a complaint or woeful words of disappointment, not once. Somehow, she knew – no, felt – that even without his squadron, Jag had everything he had ever wanted.

Jag was a goal-oriented man, which created a strange dichotomy between the part of him that forsook personal ambition and the man who only cared who he did it with. Only recently, in her long weeks of healing, had Jaina come to truly understand that being with her had been the objective all along, not a career or position. And he had persisted until the objective had been attained, even when that meant years without position or rank, a commander without command, until the day the reins of the Empire had been handed over to him without warning. At first it had seemed like a cruel twist of fate, but then somehow the bonds of duty had been cut. What lay ahead now was infinite possibilities, a future they could define together.

She wondered idly what new objectives he would lay out in his life. No, their life. Whatever they might turn out to be, Jaina knew they would be for the betterment of the galaxy. That's just what good men did.

Her eyes still shut, she thought of her brother and realized he had come to her exactly when she had needed him. The Empire or the GA, peace or war, for better or for worse – she was not alone. Whatever Jag wanted for the future, she would want it too. And they would fight for it together.

"Hold on," he said, his voice vibrating through the ripples of wind.

Not that he gave her time to react as the speeder slewed sideways, shedding speed at a breathtaking rate. Fortunately her Jedi reflexes were quick enough, and though she could have balanced on her own, it was easier to fight momentum by clutching tighter to Jag. As the speeder bike slowed to an idle, Jaina lifted her head to study their destination.

To their port, not more than a meter away, a small pleasure skiff bobbed in the water. The pilot rolled the steering yoke and feathered the thrusters, guiding it alongside. Their uncle, Wedge Antilles, leaned over the side to clamp a tether on the speeder bike.

"Nice move, ace, but I would have gotten it closer," the black-haired pilot said as Jaina clambered into the skiff.

Jag hopped down beside her. "You still owe me a sim, Janson. We'll see who betters who in a one-on-one."

Wedge slapped Jag on the shoulder. "Isn't going to happen, kid. Janson's afraid. Very afraid." Years ago on Borleias, Janson had unwittingly hit on Jaina. A couple days later he had been asked to spar by one Jagged Fel, who had wanted to make clear Jaina Solo was off limits. The crushing defeat by the young colonel had bruised Janson's pride and resulted in an unending barrage of taunts and mockery between the Hawkbats' leader and Twins Suns Three. Finally fed up with the macho display, Jaina had ordered both men to the simulators. Janson hadn't shown.

"I was flying a hop." Janson flapped his hand in his former commander's direction. "Tell them, Wedge."

The aging Corellian snorted. "You asked for that hop specifically. Name the time and the place, and I'll arrange it for you two personally."

"Actually, I have an idea which might bring this terrible feud to a close." Jag's green eyes had darkened, which typically suggested he was plotting something. "But I'd rather discuss it with Janson man-to-man."

Jaina stepped back, allowing her husband to pass toward the pilot's deck. Turning away to leave the men to their scheming, she helped her uncle secure the speeder to the skiff. "I'm pretty sure I don't want to know."

Wedge chuckled. "You're probably right."

The speeder secure, she pivoted and leaned against the skiff's side. "So I guess you got caught up in one more day of my drama. I'll do my best to be cooperative in the debrief so we can all be on our way."

"No debrief. I'm here strictly as family."

Jaina shook her head. That wasn't possible. This was the Empire, and even the GA had procedures. "How can that be?"

Wedge shrugged. "Jag and I met with Soontir this morning. Your husband argued that the information provided last night, along with what was collected in our earlier investigation, would suffice."

"And Soontir accepted that?"

"Not initially. But I have to hand it to my nephew. He can be quite persistent, and underhanded. Fel is no match for an Antilles, never has been." Wedge glanced over to where Jag and Janson were speaking in hushed tones. "And Jagged is Antilles through and through."

"Good thing, then. I'm certainly not going to complain. If he somehow finagled a free pass on this whole Korde debacle…" She watched Jag shake Janson's hand. Devious like an Antilles… "Hey! What exactly are you shaking to?"

Both men turned her way, their hands falling quickly to their sides. "Terms," Jag offered first.

"Yeah. Terms," Janson agreed.

Jaina's eyebrow arched. "Terms for what?"

Just then, Jag's comlink chimed. He looked somewhat bemused as he raised the device to his mouth. "Transfer complete. ISS cleared of obligation."

"Clear skies, little brother," Cem's voice replied. "ISS out."

Her brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Jag said, pocketing the comlink, "from this moment, we've got one week completely to ourselves."

Jaina looked over to Wedge. "The Grand Moff surely can't be happy."

For his part, Janson pumped his fist into the air. "Another Fel gone Rogue."

Casting the man a pointed stare, Jag tapped on his wristchrono. "Let's stick to the timeline, gentlemen, before the Grand Moff exercises his prerogative to change his mind."

Wedge tipped his head in understanding. "Janson, you're sure you've got this?"

Janson tossed a jaunty salute. "Clear, and ready for liftoff."

"You were a beautiful bride." Her uncle pecked Jaina on the cheek, then tugged his approaching nephew into a hug worthy of a Wookiee. "Good luck, son."

Jag thumped his uncle on the back. "Luck doesn't factor into the equation."

Then Wedge sped off on the speeder bike, and the skiff raced away from the main island. As the berthing terminal loomed ahead, Jag wrapped his arm around Jaina.

"So you don't mind if we just dash away?"

"And ruin the Empire's final public relations stunt?" Neither of them would miss the pomp and circumstance. It was the goodbyes to family and friends that wore on her heart.

"What if I promise we'll see your parents at the end of the week?" he asked expectantly.

Jaina could live with that. "And yours?"

"In short order, as well."

"In that case, I think whatever you have planned will be great."

"It's settled, then."

The skiff roared up to a side entrance at the berthing terminal. Jag left Jaina's side to secure the vessel to the dock. Janson powered down the engines and followed the couple as they climbed out. Whistling the Rogue Squadron anthem, he passed the pair and slid an identichip into the reader just to the right of the personnel door.

"A kiss for the driver?"

"I dunno…"

Jag grabbed the door, swinging it open. "Go ahead. He's harmless."

Smiling, Jaina rose up on her toes, bestowing a light peck on Janson's cheek. The veteran pilot blushed before turning to face Jag. Janson stuck out his hand. "I almost feel guilty now."

Despite his inscrutable expression, Jag exuded a victorious vibe as he shook the other man's hand. "I don't."

"What –" Her question went unasked as Jag tugged Jaina through the door. She resisted, her feet treading against the polished floor.

Abruptly he scooped her into his arms, and Jaina felt the crush of his lips. Her query was forgotten. Her arms snaked around his neck, her mouth reveling in the taste of unbridled passion.

Just as quickly, Jag deposited her back where she had been. Jaina blinked up at him breathlessly; he snatched her hand. "Time enough for that. Later."

Hand in hand, the newlyweds strode briskly through the berthing terminal's wide corridor. Her fingers intertwined with Jag's, Jaina found herself continually noticing the odd cold sensation that hadn't been there before. Cold, smooth. Metallic.

His ring.

Jaina smiled. Finally. It was finally, truly done. They were married, and going on their honeymoon alone.

A gentle but firm tug drew her to the side. She blinked, and realized Jag had taken an unexpected turn off the main corridor. In the direction of –

"Uh, Jag?"

He glanced down. "Yes?"

"The _Falcon_ is this way."

"Correct."

"I thought we weren't going to say goodbye to my parents."

"Not until next week."

"Then why –"

"To fly her away from here, of course."

"But –"

He quickened his strides, tugging her along. "You object to your father's ship?"

"Of course not. But –"

"Here we are," he said, leading her inside the docking bay. He released her hand and continued on while she stopped in place and appraised the _Falcon_ bow to stern. Even though she wanted to scowl at Jag for his evasive answers, she couldn't help but grin at the sight of the familiar old freighter. Truth be told, she couldn't think of a starship she'd rather fly for her honeymoon. Still, wasn't the –

"Planning to join me?"

She shook off her reverie. "Right."

Bounding ahead, she joined him at the base of the boarding ramp. Without a word he reached out and pulled her into his arms. For a long moment he held her there, and she nestled herself into him. Then she tipped her head back, gazing up into his sparkling eyes.

His hand came up, the backs of his fingers softly caressing her cheek. Jag leaned down, lowering his lips to hers.

The kiss was tender, lingering as their lips danced and their tongues slowly swirled.

Jaina whimpered.

Jag chuckled, and pulled his lips away. "Let's get out of here."

Brushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes, Jaina giggled. "Sounds good."

Taking his hand, her fingers rubbing across the edges of his ring, she led him toward the front of the ship. Halfway there, she remembered.

"Wait a second."

"What?"

She glanced back over her shoulder. "When did my dad have time to make the repairs?"

"What repairs?"

"The forward port repulsor. How are we going to –"

That oddly victorious aura oozed from Jag's pores again.

Her footfalls stuttered to a full stop, and she spun, glaring. "What's got you so cocky?"

"I'm on my honeymoon."

That may well have been true, but Jaina decided she needed to make sure she was the one in charge here. She threw her chin up, her hands propped on her hips. "My dad said –"

"Your father," he said, shaking his finger in a disturbingly accurate imitation of Han Solo, "is an incredibly well-practiced liar."

She stomped her foot. "You had this planned all along!"

"Guilty as charged."

She swatted him for good measure. "And who else was a member of this extensive conspiracy of yours?"

He put on a mock ponderous expression. "They are shielded by executive privilege."

She scowled. "Is this the way of the Empire, then?"

"When dealing with a Rebel princess, it's a necessity."

"You're going to pay for this."

"Oh?"

"Yes."

"Severely?"

"Most definitely."

He grinned. "I like the sound of that."

"You would."

"So. Are we going to stand here, or are we going to fly this ship?"

"I'm going to fly this ship," she said. "You're just along for the ride."

"I like the sound of that, too."

"You, Jagged Fel," she said, shaking her head, "are utterly incorrigible."

"Don't even pretend you don't love every second of it."

She spun on her heel, and marched toward the cockpit. "I didn't say that."

Arriving at the bow, she ducked through the narrow portal and slid into the pilot's seat. A moment later, Jag deposited himself in the co-pilot's chair opposite her. With practiced ease they ran through the preflight checklist, and within minutes Jaina guided the _Falcon_ out of the berthing terminal and into the bright Maramere sky.

"Jag?"

"Yes?"

"You're sure the ship is fixed?"

"Well, I don't think your father was lying about that."

"Let's hope not."

Jag reached over and put a hand atop hers. "Hey, think of all the fun we had restoring the _Blue Flame_ these past few weeks. I can think of a lot of worse things we could do on our honeymoon than make emergency repairs to the _Falcon_."

Jaina smiled. "You know what? You're absolutely right."

"I've been known to be." He flashed that little smirk again. "Occasionally. Although there are a lot better things we could do on our honeymoon."

She was inclined to agree, but between the prospect of those better things and the newlyweds stood Maramere flight control, which was now squawking in her ear. "Uh, Jag? I have to tell them something."

He dropped a datachip into the navcomputer and tapped in a few codes. "Relayed."

She scanned the feed on the pilot's heads-up display. "_Pirate's Peril_ on the way to Puranir? Where you do come up with this stuff?"

"It's perfectly acceptable."

Nudging the _Falcon_ through a graceful spiral away from the system, Jaina tried and failed to not roll her eyes. "If you want to sound like an Imperial cover."

He stared into the transparisteel, locking gazes in their reflections. "As always, I am your humble servant in the ways of the Rebels."

Their eyes didn't break contact even as the swirls of hyperspace erupted before them. There was an unmistakable glint of undying love, but beyond that, she recognized a new hint of burden that had bubbled to the surface. She unbuckled her restraints, kneeling before him. Jaina took his hands. "What is it?"

He inhaled slowly, then gently kissed the knuckles of each hand while finding a way to form his thoughts. "I'm afraid I'm… too happy."

Her eyes glistened. She knew that fear better than most. They had fought so hard, had known too many brethren who would never know even a hint of this type of joy. In that moment, Jaina recognized Jag truly was her soulmate. She buried her cheek in his lap.

Stroking her hair, he whispered, "You have to promise me something."

"Anything."

"Don't ever sacrifice your life so that I may live." His hand ran through her hair and came to rest on her back. "I couldn't live without you. Not again."

She lifted her head up. "Jag –"

A finger to her lips silenced the rest. "Promise."

Her gut told her to argue. But she could see the Fel determination hardening his expression. "Okay. I promise."

He exhaled, his expression shifting again to grim Imperial realist. "Obviously we're without the ISS escort you probably expected. Well, I brokered a deal with my father. Except for occasional special events where necessity requires it, you will be free to move about without the limitations of an assigned attachment."

Jaina stammered. "I – I don't know what to say."

"You haven't heard the rest."

Her mouth clicked shut, and she nodded mutely.

"In deference to my position, under most circumstances I will have a guard detail –"

"A couple ISS –"

"– to be selected and, if you agree, trained by you." Jag hesitated, just for a second. "My father is even open to the possibility of Noghri."

"So far, so good."

"There's a catch."

"This is your father we're talking about."

"It's not entirely his idea."

"All right." Slipping back so she sat on her haunches, Jaina sucked in her breath. "Just cut to the power cables."

"Our children will have a full guard detail at all times, from the start."

"Children?" She started to giggle. "You haven't even gotten me to the bed yet."

"I did a fairly respectable job last night," he said in his trying to not sound annoyed voice before reverting to the unyielding negotiator. "Do we have a deal?"

She felt the strain of kneeling on her joints as she stood. "I don't see why we have to discuss this now. It's not like we don't have, oh, the rest of our lives to work these details out."

"I realize that you, being Jaina Solo Fel, prefer to act on the fly and render such discussions moot. And if they are required, let them fall the way of heroic rescues and other momentous events of high stakes drama."

"You make me sound so… irresponsible." Jaina really wanted to be offended, but unfortunately her husband had a fair point.

The scarred brow lifted slightly. "I accept that you might prefer to table this discussion in order to consider my proposal. In the meantime, I did promise your father that I would check the starboard flux regulator. This is as good a time as any to honor it."

Her mouth agape, Jaina watched him exit the cockpit. Typically she would be inclined to enjoy the view. Her honeymoon expectations already askew, though, she stomped after him, full of miff not pleasure at seeing his backside. She caught him in the intersecting service shafts, where he stood dutifully inspecting a secondary computer display while humming the same melody Janson had whistled on the skiff.

"Are your intentions," she demanded, "to withhold privileges until such time as I do deign to discuss your terms?"

"I believe…" The air fell silent save the familiar hum of the hyperdrive engines. Jag tapped a few quick strokes at the console, then continued. "I have proven to be a very patient man where you are concerned."

Patient and determined, Jaina thought. "Why now?"

"Because," he replied, turning slowly to face her, "I have a tactical advantage."

"My freedom?"

"No."

A scream boiled up in Jaina's throat. This wasn't Fel doggedness, it was just underhanded Antilles tactics. Worse yet, he just stood there, proud and arrogant and so utterly handsome she wanted to pounce on him. Pounce on him and kiss those stupid humming lips –

Hold on. Humming Janson's song, the Rogue anthem. Connections rapidly clicked together in her head. Soontir. Wedge. Janson. Rogues!

Jag smirked. "You still want to win that bet?"

"Who told you?" It had to be Soontir; he wasn't really a Rogue through and through. His loyalties had always been to his family.

"Not my father."

Janson! "Why that dirty, conniving, double-crossing skirt chaser. When I get my hands on him." She pounded her fist on the bulkhead. Prowling the corridor, she considered her options – and quickly decided that hanging him upside down in a Force grip over the Druscowal Rift during flitnat breeding season sounded about right.

His brows furrowed. "I hope you won't be too hard on my uncle."

"What?" After everything Wedge had done this week, the idea of his betrayal of a confidence was almost unimaginable.

"How much did it cost you?"

"A case of the family reserve of Whyren's and two TIE trainers."

She whistled. "Wow. I guess you really wanted to know."

"I have to admit my curiosity was piqued last night. Mostly because I know how much you hate to lose."

Jaina snorted. "Don't get your hopes up. I can't not participate in stuff like that. So I just shut my eyes and pointed at a spot on the calendar."

Jag blanched. For once in his life, he actually looked nervous. She stepped forward and rubbed his arm. "Don't worry. It wasn't too much money."

"It's not the money I'm worried about." He shook his head slightly, like he was trying to remove the fog of a stunbolt. "Aren't you Jedi always spouting mantras about trusting the Force?"

Her hand fell. Quite possibly, he had another valid point. At the time, it had felt like a good-spirited joke at her expense. But what if this was a sign? Obviously things were happening quickly in her life, and the Force had blessed her with a sign of affirmation earlier that morning in allowing her brother Anakin to visit. It was another thing entirely, though, to be ready for the responsibility of a family. There were important things left to be done. Both she and Jag had committed to building a goodwill mission on the Empire's behalf. Her father-in-law had apparently tasked Jaina with Jag's security…

Concern niggled at the edges of her perceptions. Jacen had become a parent quite unexpectedly himself, and he hadn't dealt with the stress of being a father very well. Being around Allana had stirred new types of protective emotions in Jaina, too. Perhaps it was better to be prepared? The idea of getting cornered into a decision, though, didn't sit well. It was not a good way to start their marriage.

"So say we have Jedi children," she posed.

"They would be Skywalker heirs to the Empire's seat of power."

"Why do I feel like some Imperial womb of destiny all of a sudden?"

"Listen, I'd be happy if our child had no bigger aspirations that to operate carnival rides at Motimouse World, but reality won't work that way." He swept her hand up in his. "I didn't plan on discussing this at this point in our lives, but with the bet it all became very real to me quite suddenly. Admittedly, we've not been trying to have a baby, but we haven't exactly been trying to avoid that possibility since our engagement, either. So yes, I just finished effectively bartering with my father to ensure your freedom, and wound up terrified for our imaginary child born on a randomly chosen date in the not-so-distant future."

Jaina chewed on her lip. The random date in question didn't leave a whole lot of leeway…

"Deal," she said.

"You're sure?"

"Actually, yes I am." Jaina had been prepared to accept a guard detail for herself without protest, if that had been expected of her role within the Fel family. A long time ago, huddled in a shared bunk on Borleias, she had relayed to Jag the loneliness of her life hidden away as a child. On that day, Jaina had sworn her own children would not be isolated in such a way. So if she would have been willing to accept bodyguards for herself, how could she refuse it for them? Especially if it meant keeping them close by their parents, where they belonged. "As you say, I'm the spontaneous one; you're the big picture guy. Besides, if I argue with you and something were to happen… I couldn't live with the guilt."

"Thank you." Placing one hand on each of her cheeks, he brushed his lips against her forehead. His breath teased her skin. "I don't think I had the patience to outlast you, to be honest."

He nuzzled her brow, hands sliding down to her shoulders, fingertips feathering along her sides and down to her waist. He nudged her around, dragging his mouth across her ear, kissing the lobe, licking her neck. Somehow she had started walking, compelled by the singular desire running through her husband's veins. Moving in time with her, his palms slid up her back, his fingers kneading the tense muscles on either side of her spine.

Jaina practically purred, and a familiar song rumbled in the back of her throat – the Rogue Squadron anthem. It was hard to imagine such a simple choice would lead her to meeting the most important squadron mate of her life. From the framework of that brotherhood, she had built a new squadron and learned to love Jag Fel in the process. She owed them a debt of gratitude –

Her feet stopped so suddenly her husband practically bounced off her. "Why the Rogue anthem?"

"Hmmm?" Jag swept her hair aside and sucked on her neck.

Steeling her traitorous knees against buckling, she pivoted away. "Jag. Answer my question."

Looking every inch like a guilty boy caught with his finger in the rhyscate batter, he slowly reached into his pocket and withdrew a patch she recognized immediately.

"Janson gave you a Rogue Squadron patch! But those are just for –"

"Honorary, or otherwise."

"So what else do I need to know about your scheming with my former squadmates?"

"Why do we have to discuss this now?"

Jaina grinned. "Because I have the tactical advantage."

"Privileges?"

"Absolutely, flyboy."

He shrugged. "It was nothing, really. Janson wanted my sister's room number. So I gave it to him."

Her arms shot out and shoved Jag away. "Seriously. You traded honorary membership in Rogue Squadron so Janson could hit on your sister."

"Truth be told, I just want dibs on future bets."

Scowling, Jaina crossed her arms.

"Seriously. Janson had no chance with her, and she's more than capable of taking care of herself. So what's the risk?"

Jaina fought the grin pulling at the corner of her mouth. "I guess if he's brave enough to ask, knowing who her brother is."

"My point, exactly." He stretched out and gently uncrossed her arms. "Now, can we forego the stalling tactics?"

"Who's stalling?"

He didn't answer. There was nothing left to say. Jag moved past her, leading the way toward the captain's quarters. He paused at the door, settling her frame comfortably against his. Jaina peered up at him, wondering if she should admit to the terrifying knot that was erupting in her gut.

"Don't worry," he said. "I'm scared too."

"You are?"

"While the thought of perfecting my procreative techniques is quite exciting, the thought of succeeding has somehow become quite daunting."

"You don't have to worry about the bet."

"I've already written off the money."

And there it was. They were both terrified of the same thing. As he reached back to swipe the door controls, though, Jag appeared far from a man hindered by fear of his future, distant or otherwise, as he backed into the room, the hold on her hand guiding Jaina in. After a couple tentative steps, she gasped.

The floor was strewn with dozens upon dozens of flowers and petals in a multitude of hues. Her eyes followed their rainbow trail. Stumbling forward, she headed for the bed. Her fingers brushed the bedspread as she wandered to the small stand. Sitting there, carefully preserved in its Salylic containment sphere, was the Alderaanian orchid Jag had given her the night he proposed.

His hand came to rest on her shoulder, and she started. He gave her a gentle squeeze. "You like it?"

"Oh, Jag…" Her hand at her throat had to reach up to wipe the wetness from her eyes. "It's… it's wonderful."

He chuckled. "I'll take that as a 'yes.'"

She rolled onto the bed of flowers, taking him with her. They ended with Jaina straddling Jag, and she leaned down to let her lips supply the affirmation. "I'm impressed."

Jag flashed her a cocky Corellian smirk. "You should be."

"Why do I think there is some complicated story behind all this?"

He shook his head. "Trust me, my love. You don't want to know."

"Oh, come on. It couldn't have been that bad."

"Two words: Threepio and Artoo."

"In that case, I think comm silence would be prudent."

In an artful imitation of a starfighter's barrelroll, Jaina whirled them around so Jag ended up on top. Like any good wingman, he followed her lead. They had nothing to fear from a future together.


End file.
